"Reeds love rivers, as the fading and transitory things of the world delight us. If, however, anyone shall pluck up this reed from the Earth, and strip off it's useless parts, spoiling the old man with his deeds, and guide it by the hand of a Scribe writing quickly, it begins to be no more a Reed, but a Pen, which impresses the precepts of the Heavenly Scriptures on the Hidden Places of the mind and writes them on the Tables Of The Heart"
- St.Ambrose
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The writers,the women that interest me, that make me alert to the fact that there is more to “IT” than just vacuous moonbeams & miraculous waters of ambrosia swimming with castrated unicorns,are the ones that inspire me by their strength,courage & raw honesty & they are the ones who usually arrive to light through tumultuous dark days & haggard life experience, not by sitting in a green field threading daisy chains singing,"he loves me,he loves me not"- they are the ones that always win with me.
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Poetry is ambrosia for the human spirit, not just a rhyme and rhythm of words.
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The five most coveted things one wants to possess are elixir, ambrosia, panacea, nectar and philosopher's stone. Unfortunately nobody invented them.
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