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A Quotes

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All A Quotes

“A Magic Hour’s Dreaming by Stewart Stafford Is there a sight more fair than wheaten fields, Awaiting the sun's ambush to potently ignite? Colour vibrates beyond the eye revealed, To live, dance and breathe in honeyed light. Nature’s palette, painted hues so bright, Invites the bees to sip and man to dream, Of engineered art, dazzling to the sight, Authored lightning in a celestial seam. The creator’s canvas, mint beyond decay, Invites the inner child to replenish at source, Where Nature’s staff casts shadows away, Friendships bond as a trickling stream's course. An eyeblink flash carved in history's tree, Treasured riches pooled of those by our side. For in sepia’s sunflower memory, We court the hand of an agreeable bride. Fading birdsong underscores this bottled time, In butterfly hearts, the hourglass stilled sublime. Autumn's leaves, ochre embers, curtsied fall, Farewell Summer, until roused in New Year's call. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“A magic leverage suddenly is caught That moves the veiled Ineffable’s timeless will: A prayer, a master act, a king idea Can link man’s strength to a transcendent Force. Then miracle is made the common rule, One mighty deed can change the course of things; A lonely thought becomes omnipotent. 01.02_004:038-039”

“A magical portal opened inside my mind and conducted me into an astonishing world. [...] Before this moment I had divined but had never known with such positiveness that the world is extremely large and that suffering and toil are the companions and fellow warriors not only of Cretan, but of every man. [...] That by means of poetry all this suffering and effort could be transformed into dream; no matter how much of the ephemeral existed, poetry could immortalize it by turning it into song.”

“A magical potion is available to us today. That potion is called acceptance. We are asked to accept many things: ourselves, as we are; our feelings, needs, desires, choices, and current status of being. Other people, as they are. The status of our relationships with them. Problems. Blessings. Financial status. Where we live. Our work, our tasks, our level of performance at these tasks. Resistance will not move us forward, nor will it eliminate the undesirable. But even our resistance may need to be accepted. Even resistance yields to and is changed by acceptance. Acceptance is the magic that makes change possible. It is not forever; it is for the present moment. Acceptance is the magic that makes our present circumstances good. It brings peace and contentment and opens the door to growth, change, and moving forward. It shines the light of positive energy on all that we have and are. Within the framework of acceptance, we figure out what we need to do to take care of ourselves. Acceptance empowers the positive and tells God we have surrendered to the Plan. We have mastered today's lesson, and are ready to move on. Today, I will accept. I will relinquish my need to be in resistance to myself and my environment. I will surrender. I will cultivate contentment and gratitude. I will move forward in joy by accepting where I am today.”

“A magician creates magic and mesmerizes the audience. But it is a pantomime, and the audience knows that it’s a ruse. It’s in the name: a “magic trick”. They play along when the magician tugs his sleeves to show there is nothing hidden within them, or that the top hat is empty of a rabbit, or eggs, or flowers. Beneath the façade there is only sleight of hand, wires and contraptions, misdirection at a key moment. “But what the audience does not realize is that it’s not always trickery. Or at least, not quite.”

“A magician may step out without a purse, but he should never step out without a pack of playing cards.”

“A Magnum Paucity by Stewart Stafford Build the nation's mausoleum, Light the people's funeral pyre, For Hibernia's sons and daughters, In genocide to expire. Romantic Ireland has no grave, It died foraging at the roadside for bites, Or on a coffin ship out of reach of the New World, An empire's boot on the throat for last rites. Did you know your identity all along? Or find it struggling and aghast? Old Eireann was the first expendable colony, And egregiously, not Britannia's last. Constricting stomachs do not growl patriotic oaths, Freedom is a stranger to a starved mind, Force-feed our children grapes of wrath, With liberation dead on the vine. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

“A magyar képviselőház padjainak négyszáznegyvenhárom ülése van, melyeknek ugyanannyi választókerület felel meg a térképen. Vannak különböző nagyságú, kaliberű, nemzetiségű, vallású választókerületek. Vannak drága és olcsó, szabott árú és ingyen megkapható választókerületek. Vannak kerületek, melyekben az alkotmány iránti buzgalom hihetetlen nagyfokú szomjat szokott felkölteni, mely okvetlen eloltásra vár; vannak olyanok, a mikben húsz szavazó jelen meg a választásra; megint olyanok, a mikben nyolczezer szavazót kell összehordani tíz mértföldnyi kerületből szekéren; vannak lelkes, tántoríthatlan választókerületek, kik tűzbe, vízbe mennek a kedvencz vezérükért, megint olyanok, kiknek minden választáskor új képviselő kell; vannak választókerületek, a mikért egész niebelungenharczot kell folytatni, aztán megint olyanok, a miket el lehet lopni.”

“A magányban némán szemlélődőnek megfigyelései elmosódottabbak s mégis élesebbek, mint a társas emberéi, gondolatai súlyosabbak, különösebbek, és mindig van bennük leheletnyi bú. Képek, benyomások, amelyeket egy pillantással, nevetéssel, egy eszmecserével könnyedén el lehetne intézni, mértéken felül foglalkoztatják, elmélyülnek a hallgatásban, jelentőséget kapnak, élmény, kaland, érzés lesz belőlük. Magány termi az eredetiséget, a merészen, meghökkentően szépet, a költeményt. Ámde a magány termi a fonákot, az aránytalant, az abszurdot és a tilalmat is.”

“A maid’s yard, house, wardrobe, fridge, etc. sometimes also serve as her master’s dustbin or dumpsite.”

“A maiden? Out here? And scented with festering carcasses?” Vladamir searched the forest that surrounded his castle. The hum of insects was quite clear on the morning air, and he noticed that the red bristled pigs grazing just beyond his walls were undisturbed. Nor could he detect movement within the barren limbs of the trees. Finally satisfied that the girl was alone, he turned his attention back to Ulric. He refused to show any interest in the maiden. “Wake her and send her on her way.” He kept his voice passionless and made no effort to help the woman. “If she is dead, burn her, for I won’t tolerate that wretched smell in my bailey.” “Should we not try to find out who she is first? Mayhap there are those who search fer her even now. Would you deny her kinsmen a proper burial?” Ulric protested quietly. “Do as I command!” Vladamir insisted in a low growl. Even as he did so, he saw the knights that manned the wall look over the girl with curious stares. He heard their whispering as it drifted down, though he couldn’t make out their hasty words. He didn’t need to. The woman was more than likely a Saxon wench and they would wish to know whom, for none in the manor were missing. If she was dead, there was nothing he could do for her. He didn’t need this headache. His life was stressed enough.”