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“I watch my loved ones weep with sorrow,
death's silent torment of no tomorrow.
I feel their hearts breaking, I sense their despair,
United in misery, the grief that they share.

How do I show that, I am not gone...
but the essence of life's everlasting song
Why do they wee? Why do they cry?
I'm alive in the wind and I am soaring high.

I am sparkling light dancing on streams,
a moment of warmth in the fays of sunbeams.
The coolness of rain as it falls on your face,
the whisper of leaves as wind rushes with haste.

Eternal Song, a requiem by Avian of Celieria

from Crown of Crystal Flame by C.L. Wilson”
― C.L. Wilson, Crown of Crystal Flame

“I pass and I stay, like the Universe.”
― Alberto Caeiro, The Keeper of Sheep

“I admire your beliefs Miss Zeldin, and rest assuredâ€� you could never offend me.”
― Kate Rose, The Angel and the Apothecary

“They had no curiousity about him at all. As if they knew all that they needed to know. They stood and watched him pass and watched him vanish upon that landscape solely because he was passing. Solely because he would vanish.”
― Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses

“And as his body thaws into hers, he is no longer sure where her pleasure ends and his begins, for bodies and minds deliquesce into something of a stupor.”
― Kate Rose, The Angel and the Apothecary

“Thus, Jeremiah’s love affair ends with a dull journey in which two doctors speak of the merits of Claudius Amyand’s successful appendectomy, the quality of French roads, moving onto other topics the reserve of the serious minded and Jeremiah, in his confinement, gazes out at the landscape, at the great conquered land lying between himself and his beloved and inwardly weeps, acknowledging that a whore in Covent Garden had foreseen it all.”
― Kate Rose, The Angel and the Apothecary

“I kept traveling down the road. And everywhere it was the same. What was my name, who were my people? What was I supposed to say? That my father is the president, and my mother is his slave?”
― Kimberly Brubaker Bradley, Jefferson's Sons

“How strange this silent longing for death, as if you could make the sun not come up, the world's wheeling and wheeling its seasons like a cruel continuation of stubborn force.”
― Ada Limon, Bright Dead Things

“His theory stands, however, that a cure operates primarily through the dispensing healer’s understanding of the individual, as well as the nature of plantsâ€� And in the interstices where neither cure not hope can reach, there is laudanum. ”
― Kate Rose, The Angel and the Apothecary

“When I am with you…â€� He dips the quill, determined, ‘my soul is more than content. It is rendered…â€� He forces the nib forwards. ‘â€� in a state of miraculous Completion.”
― Kate Rose, The Angel and the Apothecary

“Passing means that bisexuals are completely dependent upon their partners for successful bisexual passing....passing can never be done individually, as it necessitates being seen with other peoples (as "passing accessories").”
― Shiri Eisner, Bi: Notes for a Bisexual Revolution

“For fifty years I've watched the grandfather clock in the hall, William. After it is wound I can predict to the hour when it will stop. Old people are no different. They can feel the machinery slow down and the last weights shift.”
― Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

“The longest day of sunlight...comes at the beginning of Summer rather than in its midst. In consequence, all Summer long we are inclining towards Summer's end instead of building to a climax and then tapering off.”
― Hal Borland, Sundial of the Seasons

“I’m like a ripe stool, and the world’s like a gigantic anus, and so we’re about to let go of each other.”
― Martin Luther

“It's like we come into the world to wait for the hour of our death. And what we do while waiting appears to be the only thing that truly matters.”
― Michael Bassey Johnson, Stamerenophobia

“My father lived to the age where he attained a deep luster, but never too shiny that you didn’t believe him for one minute, may we all understand our own quitting time so well.”
― Lian Dolan, The Sweeney Sisters

“I recall my Romani friend who drives from village to village to offer his services to potential clients and who claims, when asked about his origin, to be Irish or Italian. 'I make a living by denying who I am,' he says.”
― Yaron Matras, I Met Lucky People: The Story of the Romani Gypsies

“I thought about the advantages thrown at me for an aesthetic that looked like a birthright. I thought about passing, and how it erased a part of me, and how hormones responded to context, and how race and masculinity were inventions that benefited me, and what I could do to challenge that.”
― Thomas Page McBee, Amateur: A True Story About What Makes a Man

“Mine still, this moment passes by, escapes me, and is buried forever. Am I going to commit myself with the next? I make up my mind: it is here, it belongs to me--and already is long since past. From morning to night, fabricating the past!”
― Emil M. Cioran, The Trouble With Being Born

“What, she wondered, could be the reason for such persistent attention? Had she, in her haste in the taxi, put her hat on backwards? Guardedly she felt at it. No. Perhaps there was a streak of powder somewhere on her face. She made a quick pass over it with her handkerchief. Something wrong with her dress? She shot a glance over it. Perfectly all right. What was it?

Again she looked up, and for a moment her brown eyes politely returned the stare of the other’s black ones, which never for an instant fell or wavered. Irene made a little mental shrug. Oh well, let her look! She tried to treat the woman and her watching with indifference, but she couldn’t. All her efforts to ignore her, it, were futile. She stole another glance. Still looking. What strange languorous eyes she had!

And gradually there rose in Irene a small inner disturbance, odious and hatefully familiar. She laughed softly, but her eyes flashed.

Did that woman, could that woman, somehow know that here before her very eyes on the roof of the Drayton sat a Negro?

Absurd! Impossible! White people were so stupid about such things for all that they usually asserted that they were able to tell; and by the most ridiculous means, finger-nails, palms of hands, shapes of ears, teeth, and other equally silly rot. They always took her for an Italian, a Spaniard, a Mexican, or a gipsy. Never, when she was alone, had they even remotely seemed to suspect that she was a Negro. No, the woman sitting there staring at her couldn’t possibly know.

Nevertheless, Irene felt, in turn, anger, scorn, and fear slide over her. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of being a Negro, or even of having it declared. It was the idea of being ejected from any place, even in the polite and tactful way in which the Drayton would probably do it, that disturbed her.”
― Nellla Larson

“When a life is thrown from its body suddenly (by accident), or semi-suddenly (by an untimely illness), or unwillingly (by resisting death) there is damage to the system because the life-force was not prepared to leave. The exiting soul will struggle to make sense of where it is and what it is supposed to do next. It is a great gift to help someone crossover well. The person leaving will benefit from a clearer, cleaner, calmer post-Earth path. When people die, they essentially follow their instincts and leanings. Most of their human associations and attachments disintegrate. They are pulled, pushed, and drawn by their inherent tendencies. Advanced souls have a more conscious and intentional path after their passing.”
― Donna Goddard, Purnima

“Do you think you will keep your life, or anything else you love? But no. Your needs are all met. But not as the world giveth. You see the needs of your own spirit met whenever you have asked, and you have learned that the outrageous guarantee holds. You see the creatures die, and you know you will die. And one day it occurs to you that you must not need life.”
― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek

“My Daughter

Your smile like the sunshine
your laughter in the rain
I would give all of me
to have you back again.

The Lord took you home that day
now, the missing part of me
at times feels so empty
there’s day I can’t believe.

I dream of your precious love
How it’s missing day to day
my angel went to heaven
while I knell down to pray.

Praying for strength dear Lord
and her laughter in the rain
keeps me strong enough each day
until I see her once again.

Ron Baratono (Poem dedication)”
― Ron Baratono

“My Daughter

Your smile like the sunshine
your laughter in the rain
I would give all of me
to have you back again.

The Lord took you home that day
now, the missing part of me
at times feels so empty
there’s days I can’t believe.

I dream of your precious love
How it’s missing day to day
my angel went to heaven
while I knell down to pray.

Praying for strength dear Lord
and her laughter in the rain
keeps me strong enough each day
until I see her once again.

Poem dedication”
― Ron Baratono

“My Daughter

Your smile like the sunshine
your laughter in the rain
I would give all of me
to have you back again.

The Lord took you home that day
now, the missing part of me
at times feels so empty
there’s days I can’t believe.

I dream of your precious love
how it’s missing day to day
my angel went to heaven
while I knell down to pray.

Praying for strength dear Lord
and her laughter in the rain
keeps me strong enough each day
until I see her once again



Poem dedication”
― Ron Baratono

“Thus ages pass,
and men after men. Mourning voices
of women weeping. So the world passes;
day follows day, and the dust gathers,
his tomb crumbles, as time gnaws it,
and his kith and kindred out of ken dwindle.
So men flicker and in the mirk go out.
The world withers and wind rises;
the candles are quenched. Cold falls the night.
It's dark! It's dark, and doom is coming!
Is no light left us?”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Battle of Maldon together with The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm's Son and 'The Tradition of Versification in Old English'

“the morning dew
soon gone, beneath
our passing soles”
― Roy Duffield, Bacchus Against the Wall

“Standing on the platform at Malesherbes Métro station, I realized that I had gone back to the Passage Cardinet in the hope that something might happen to me.”
― Annie Ernaux, Happening

“Life is measured by a collection of moments rather than the passing of minutes.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“And so all things pass eventually - even pain.”
― Veronica Roth, Void