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Quote by Jayita Bhattacharjee

“A sentimental walk in the night breeze, and my heart roams in the fields of flowers, writing poems in the scent of blossoms. Suddenly, the door opens to friendship with God, for I sense light, unbound. How poetry becomes a prayer to God!”

Quote by Jayita Bhattacharjee

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Jayita Bhattacharjee

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“The love-filled soul makes music in the sky. In the awakened spirit is a secret fire, to rise above the ground and kiss the sky, to awake and sense a realm so high, A vastness, a mystery where God resides, where veils are torn as the soul meets the sky. A journey, where a thousand blessings fall, and keeps you awake deep inside.”

“The sun had begun to wink behind the trees, but pockets of other light burst all around. Lanterns hung from tree branches; there was a firepit in the center of the lawn; and in the pond, the silky water shimmered with little full moons floating on the surface. No, not moons--- orbs. Such simple sources of light, but Rose was struck by how they looked like they'd dipped down from the sky, unwilling to miss the festivities. It was a lush, clandestine beauty, mixed with the unsupervised cacophony of the people disrupting it. The word "decadence" came to mind. Rose loved that in the middle of it all Hart seemed oblivious to it, stuck in tour-guide mode. "This is my favorite tree on the property," he said. Rose also loved that he had a favorite tree. Its curlicue branches plumed outward like long hair in water, and in certain spots, its leaves drooped and swept over the ground. "It's a one-hundred-year-old weeping hemlock," Hart said. "One of the oldest hemlocks this side of the Western Hemisphere, and the estate's namesake." They walked beneath the canopy, where string lights and pearly garlands hung like so many gaudy necklaces on a dowager duchess. Rose had never paid much attention to trees, but even she couldn't deny this one's majesty.”