I'm sitting at home with a sore throat/coughing/sneezing, old fashioned cold and thinking it would be a good time to wite something. I don't have a lot of energy today and so will just relate here one of my all time favorite quotations. I recite it to myself as often as I can remember to do it, and I keep it on my laptop so I can visit it whenever I want.
He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy.
He who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sunrise.
According to the website poets.org, William Blake was born in London on November 28, 1757, to 
James, a hosier, and Catherine Blake. Two of his six siblings died in infancy. From early childhood, Blake spoke of having visions—at four he saw God "put his head to the window"; around age nine, while walking through the countryside, he saw a tree filled with angels.
As the holidays roll around again this year and we are enjoying the blessings of the season with loved ones, it helps me to remember that this day is what we have, all we have. I can't take it with me, but I can kiss it as it flies.
Wishing you the best of Thanksgivings, and all the holidays to come.
Good ki!
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