‘O learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.’
[Sonnet 23, lines 13-14]
The overactive life and noisy affirmations of our modern age leave little space for observing and listening to Nature.
If we were to jump off the Ferris wheel of desire and ambition for a few moments every day, we would soon see that Nature
expresses herself continually in love: whether it is a tree
shedding its leaves or a stream rushing through the woods or the moon casting her beams. Love and being are one in Nature; it is only in man that they have become divided. Love in Nature does not assert itself: it is.
‘Love and be silent,’ says Cordelia when Lear tries to force his daughters into protestations of love to satisfy his vanity.
Take Physic, Pomp!
Take Physic, Pomp! 