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Four from Bukowski.
Four good ones from Bukowski: “my beerdrunk soul is sadder than all the dead christmas trees of the world.” “Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I’m not going to make it, but you laugh inside–remembering all the times you’ve felt that way.” “what matters most is how well you walk through the fire” “There’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I’m not going to let anybody see you.”
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Learning the same lessons over and over again.
Image via Wikipedia I read about schools not allowing black students to be class president. The sort of thing that makes you shake your head and give up on people. Then I read a beautiful poem written by Paul Laurence Dunbar. I sought out his bio to learn more about him. He was black. His parents gave him a love of history, books. He loved school, and he excelled at it. He was class president in his high school. And he was born in 1872. The sort of thing you read that makes you lift your head, and believe in people.
