Making memories of what was today

Hold tight to the sound of the music of living

Happy songs from the laughter of children at play;

Hold my hand as we run through the sweet fragrant meadows,

Making mem'ries of what was today.

Tender words, gentle touch, and a good cup of coffee,

And someone that loves me and wants me to stay;

Hold them near while they're here, and don't wait for tomorrow

To look back and wish for today.

Take the blue of the sky and the green of the forest,

The gold and the brown of the freshly-mown hay,

Add the pale shades of spring and the circus of autumn,

And weave you a lovely today.

For we have this moment to hold in our hands,

And to touch as it slips through our fingers like sand;

Yesterday's gone, and tomorrow may never come,

But we have this moment, today.

Lyrics by Gloria Gaither.

Music by William J. Gaither.

© 1975 William J. Gaither.

Tombstone Tuesday :: To be at peace

To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. 

To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. 

To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace. 

Oscar Wilde

How Green Was My Valley

I saw behind me those who had gone, and before me, those who are to come. 

I looked back and saw my father, and his father, and all our fathers, and in front, to see my son, and his son, and the sons upon sons beyond. 

And their eyes were my eyes.

As I felt, so they had felt, and were to feel, as then, so now, as tomorrow and forever. 

Then I was not afraid, for I was in a long line that had no beginning, and no end, and the hand of his father grasped my father's hand, and his hand was in mine, and my unborn son took my right hand, and all, up and down the line that stretched from Time That Was, to Time That Is, and Is Not Yet, raised their hands to show the link, and we found that we were one . . .

written by Richard Llewellyn
How Green Was My Valley

The reunion of tomorrow

Mark Twain quotations on death . . .

• Death is the starlit strip
  between the companionship of yesterday
  and the reunion of tomorrow.

  
  . . . on a monument erected to Mark Twain & Ossip Gabrilowitsch

  
  
• It has been reported that I was seriously ill --
  it was another man;
  dying -- it was another man;
  dead -- the other man again . . .
  As far as I can see,
  nothing remains to be reported,
  except that I have become a foreigner.
  When you hear it, don't you believe it.
  And don't take the trouble to deny it.
  Merely just raise the American flag
  on our house in Hartford
  and let it talk.

  
  . . . Letter to Frank E. Bliss, 11/4/1897

  
  

Remembering our cousin . . .
Samuel Langhorne Clemens
30 November 1835 ~ 21 April 1910