Wed, Oct-03-07, 09:01
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Registered Member
Posts: 51
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Plan: Atkins
Stats: 210/201/135
BF:everywhere
Progress: 12%
Location: Minnesota
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Quote:
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Originally Posted by Duparc
I can well imagine the headlines: old-age pensioner male writes best-selling romantic novel! Probably would get into the Guinness Book of Records!
Incidentally, to my knowledge, everyone to whom I write to socially keeps my letters. My late wife of 47 years of togetherness kept all my letters in a small bedside drawer but just before her passing she destroyed them; I wonder why?
My wife of today (we've been together for 6.5 years and married 3 years ago) has had a very traumatic life from birth, that was, until we met. She often put her feelings into verse and currently I am assisting her to compile an MSS. Here is an extract of 2 verses from one of her poems written just prior to our meeting, one balmy, starry-filled night, at Stirling on 28 August 1999 :
"Had I someone I could love,
who would love me in return.
Someone who could take me
from the depth of the ocean
to as high as the clouds
to make my passion burn.
"Someone who could overlook
the scars of yesteryear
and gaze at my beauty from within
to behold me, in all my aged glory.
Someone, who would see me, at last..."!
As she is hopeful that her verse might be published it would be judicious, meantime, not to reveal more, but, I suspect those same sentiments of hers describes the feelings and desires of many on this thread. |
I have a dear friend who often emails quotes about aging. Your post reminded me of his most recent offering:
I am still every age that I have been. Because I was once a child, I am always a child. Because I was once a searching adolescent, given to moods and ecstasies, these are still part of me, and always will be... This does not mean that I ought to be trapped or enclosed in any of these ages...the delayed adolescent, the childish adult, but that they are in me to be drawn on; to forget is a form of suicide...
Far too many people misunderstand what “putting away childish things” means, and think that forgetting what it is like to think and feel and touch and smell and taste and see and hear like a three-year-old or a thirteen-year-old or a twenty-three-year-old means being grown up. When I'm with these people I, like the kids, feel that if this is what it means to be a grown-up, then I don't ever want to be one. Instead of which, if I can retain a child's awareness and joy, and “be” fifty-one, then I will really learn what it means to be grownup.
~Madeleine L'Engle, A Circle Of Quiet, 1984, p.199-200 |
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