Julia Margaret Cameron & Aristotle

Photo by Julia Margaret Cameron, I wait (Rachel Gurney), 1872




Patience is bitter,

but its fruit is sweet.

Aristotle

Pavel Baňka & Robert Browning

Photo by Pavel Banka, Vertical Construction, 1985




My sun sets to rise again.

Robert Browning 

Jalali Bahman & Paul Anka

Photo by Jalali Bahman, Image of imagination



You caught me fooling around for sombody new
You caught me fooling around now I am losing you
'Cause you are a one man woman
You' re one man woman
You' re one man woman
But I am a two timing man.


Paul Anka
One man woman, one woman man

Izu Yumiko & Gyula Krudy

Photo by Izu Yumiko, Secret Garden, 2007



Let crazy life rush headlong on the highway for others;
we shall contemplate the sunflowers,
watch them sprout, blossom, fade away.
Yesterday they were still giants,
but now,
in autumn,
they are thatch on the roof.

Gyula Krudy,
Sunflowers

Bidaut Jayne Hinds & Virginia Woolf

Diaethria Ethusa, 1998




She was a fly,
but others were dragonflies, butterflies,
beautiful insects,
dancing, fluttering, skimming,
while she alone dragged herself up out the saucer.


Virginia Woolf
A Haunted House and Other Short Stories

Alikhanzadeh Samira & Pablo Neruda

Photo by Alikhanzadeh Samira, Peace, 2013


I can write the saddest lines tonight.

Write for example: ‘The night is fractured
and they shiver, blue, those stars, in the distance’

The night wind turns in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest lines tonight.
I loved her, sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like these I held her in my arms.
I kissed her greatly under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could I not have loved her huge, still eyes.

I can write the saddest lines tonight.
To think I don’t have her, to feel I have lost her.

Hear the vast night, vaster without her.
Lines fall on the soul like dew on the grass.

What does it matter that I couldn’t keep her.
The night is fractured and she is not with me.

That is all. Someone sings far off. Far off,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

As though to reach her, my sight looks for her.
My heart looks for her: she is not with me


The same night whitens, in the same branches.
We, from that time, we are not the same.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the breeze to reach her.

Another’s kisses on her, like my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body, infinite eyes.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but perhaps I love her.
Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.

Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms,
my soul is not content to have lost her.

Pablo Neruda, If You Forget Me

Beatrice Helg & Rumi

Photo by Beatrice Helg, Geometrie 1, 1984





The cure for pain is in the pain.

Rumi