|"To me, life is simply
too unreal: But it's simply great! Sometimes I'm really envious of myself, and of these
prospects, this luck, how fortunate I am. I see her (Lady Luck) as a gigantic present and
once again I am confounded;that it is me who has been born into the sunny side of
From a letter Florian wrote on 6.16.1997
July 1999 (Florian leaves Camphill and moves to
"Now Im sitting here in the middle of the night and again this emptyness approches. The same feeling I had nearly three years ago. Before I stepped on the plane and left my homeland, I sat there, above the clouds an startet into the distance and surrendered myself to my fate. Today I kow that this has been the best decision in my life and I hope, in a couple of years, in my next situation, I will be able to say the same.....Theres a time for everything. Perhaps I had to learn some things before I could go another step further. Now I am prepared, even if the departure hurts, always. The good thing is that on my travels Im never going to forget my home harbour, and that I know that I can return any time.
You gave me the compass to take with me on my way and I learned here how to use it. Now its time to continue with my travels and the direction is known, but the reefs ramain unchartered and I will only find them when they choose to cross my path. I love you and I thank you for all your help.
Your son Florian"
|In the hollows of quiet
places we may meet,
Quiet places where is neither moon nor sun,
But only the light of amber and pale gold
That comes from the Hills of the Heart.
There listen at times:
|.||Shall I compare Thee to a
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summers lease hath all to short a date:
Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold compexion dimmd;
And every fair from fair some time declines,
By chance, or natures changing course, untrimmd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owst;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderst in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growst:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to Thee.
William Shakespeare Sonnet XVIII
|Bless the road
Remember when we walked on hills of heather
Song by Mary Black
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