Quotes by John Daniel Thieme

“. . .our whispered words, faintly in the darkness, dissolvingwithin the treesthen, fleeting words of consolationwould not suffice if feigned, and flippant wordsconfessed reluctanceour wordswere mea...”

“. . .in your light, had I learned to love, here in your beauty, could I speakknowing of this space close withinas the breath held inside a garden rose, there there is no time.”

“I wish to go down under the watersthe cool, crystalline waters that I knew, where allthat is, here, existing, isis only to be lost within the susurrationsand the rumours of water and the evening st...”

“beneath the stars that drift; she sighed and said "Every tale of a love can only be a tale of ghosts that linger in these spaces wecan never hold,"as the wind gave echo”

“. . .though the names of lovers are forgotten in time, their nameswritten across the sky as ogham threads are tracedbetween the stars”

“. . .the sorrows of the heart yearn to be erased, for one final atonementfinite and forgetting and wholebut time in its preservingwill not permit forgetting; destroyingonly when we can no longer be...”

“. . . Thisis not the same river at my fingertips. There are no paths, no sunken roadsfamiliar in the forest, by which we canretrace our steps, by which we can escapeby which we can reclaim and ret...”

“To forget would mean the things we never knew had never waited to be known, never waitedto be forgotten, had never been; waitingbeneath the long dead starsin time. . .”

“we lived depravityand called it truth, silencingour dreaming, andour love, discardingthings holy.”

“. . .our whispered words, faintly in the darkness, dissolvingwithin the trees—then, fleeting words of consolationwould not suffice if feigned, and flippant wordsconfessed reluctance—our wordswere m...”

“. . .in your light, had I learned to love, here in your beauty, could I speakknowing of this space close withinas the breath held inside a garden rose, there— there is no time.”

“I wish to go down under the waters—the cool, crystalline waters that I knew, where allthat is, here, existing, isis only to be lost within the susurrationsand the rumours of water and the evening s...”

“. . . Thisis not the same river at my fingertips. There are no paths, no sunken roadsfamiliar in the forest, by which we canretrace our steps, by which we can escapeby which we can reclaim and retu...”

“To forget would mean the things we never knew had never waited to be known, never waitedto be forgotten, had never been; waitingbeneath the long dead starsin time. . .”