I shall gather myself into my self again, _x000D_ I shall take my scattered selves and make them one.
Interpretation
This quote speaks to the idea of self-integration and wholeness, emphasizing the importance of reconciling various aspects of one's identity.
Sara Teasdale's quote reflects the human journey towards self-discovery and unity. It suggests that individuals often experience fragmentation in their identities due to life's challenges and external influences, but there is a powerful desire to reclaim one's essence and achieve harmony within oneself. This process of gathering one's 'scattered selves' symbolizes the quest for personal coherence and authenticity.
In practice
This quote could be used in a personal development seminar to emphasize the importance of self-awareness.
As the waves of perfume, heliotrope, rose, _x000D_ _x000D_ Float in the garden when no wind blows, _x000D_ _x000D_ Come to us, go from us, whence no one knows; _x000D_ _x000D_ So the old tunes float in my mind, _x000D_ _x000D_ And go from me leaving no trace behind, _x000D_ _x000D_ Like fragrance borne on the hush of the wind.
From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free. For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality.
I thought of you and how you love this beauty, And walking up the long beach all alone I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder As you and I once heard their monotone. Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me The cold and sparkling silver of the sea -- We two will pass through death and ages lengthen Before you hear that sound again with me.
Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples, The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence Under a moon waning and worn, broken, Tired with summer.
Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it be forgotten forever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
For I shall learn from flower and leaf, That color every drop they hold, To change the lifeless wine of grief To living gold.
Live near to God, and so all things will appear to you little In comparison to eternal realities.
Then I repeated these words to my spirits: 'Leave me be; give me peace; and let me do the work of my life. I will never forget you.' Something about that incantation was particularly appealing to me. 'I will never forget you'-- as though one had to address the pride of the spirits, as though one wanted them to feel good about being exorcised.
What can any one person do?' he said. 'Each person does a little something,' I said, 'and there you are.
Everyone who wants to know what will happen ought to examine what has happened: everything in this world in any epoch has their replicas in antiquity.
Holiness of life is not the privilege of a chosen few - it is the obligation, the call, and the will of God for every Christian.
What is man without the beasts? For if all the beast were gone, man would die of a great loneliness of the spirit.
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