Will not a tiny speck very close to our vision blot out the glory of the world, and leave only a margin by which we see the blot? I know no speck so troublesome as self.
quote by George Eliot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Speck Like Me
I’m often perplex that the same God who made the heavens and the earth took time to make a speck like me.
Why would the same God who put water in the lakes, oceans and seas; want to create a speck like me?
For I can’t fly
like His birds. Neither can I shine like his sun. But low and behold He is still proud of a speck like me.
Now, in this world there are those who seem to believe that they are bigger than life, but they too are only a speck like me.
A Visit from Abroad
A speck went blowing up against the sky
As little as a leaf: then it drew near
And broadened. -- ' It's a bird,' said I,
And fetched my bow and arrows. It was queer!
It grew up from a speck into a blot,
And squattered past a cloud; then it flew down
All crumply, and waggled such a lot
I thought the thing would fall.--It was a brown
Old carpet, where the man was sitting snug,
Who, when he reached the ground, began to sew
A big hole in the middle of the rug,
And kept on peeping everywhere to know
Who might be coming -- then he gave a twist
And flew away . . . . I fired at him but missed.
poem by James Stephens
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A Speck Of A Speck Am I!
a speck of a speck am i!
&
a speck of a speck am i
underneath this vast dome of sky-
no millionth of a second
without changes around me;
activities incessant, both silent and noisy-
every moment new, every moment fresh;
to one who has searching senses
and penetrating vision
no end to wonder, no way to boredom-
the clouds speak in silence
the blue hugs you close
the green kisses the cheeks
the flowers communicate in colours-
endless arrays of universes
shout at their high-pitched silences
crying for our ears and attention
through mind-boggling distances-
o man, be alert and tune yourself
to the unheard voices
and keep your spirit ever in joy!
&
chandra kalaadhar
poem by Sundaram Chandrakalaadhar
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A Visit from Abroad
A speck went blowing up against the sky
As little as a leaf: then it drew near
And broadened. -- ' It's a bird,' said I,
And fetched my bow and arrows. It was queer!
It grew up from a speck into a blot,
And squattered past a cloud; then it flew down
All crumply, and waggled such a lot
I thought the thing would fall. -- It was a brown
Old carpet, where the man was sitting snug,
Who, when he reached the ground, began to sew
A big hole in the middle of the rug,
And kept on peeping everywhere to know
Who might be coming -- then he gave a twist
And flew away . . . . I fired at him but missed.
poem by James Brunton Stephens
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Speck on a Bowl
The speck on the bowl
Tells the imperfection of the whole
Cries in its isolation to be removed
Just a speck on a bowl but how it drives me crazy!
poem by Bill Grace
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Clot It Off
Slot it in!
Blot it out! !
Clot it off;
Slot, blot, clot, allot, balklot, lot, plot!
But, with the sweet muse of love.
Slot it in and,
Start to draw now!
Blot it out and,
Find a way through!
Clot it off and,
Be free with your mind;
But, with the sweet muse of love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Outward Bound
OUT upon the unknown deep,
Where the unheard oceans sound,
Where the unseen islands sleep,--
Outward bound.
Following towards the silent west
O'er the horizon's curved rim,--
Or to islands of the blest,
--He with me and I with him--
Outward bound.
Nothing but a speck we seem
In the waste of waters round,
Floating, floating like a dream,--
Outward bound.
But within that tiny speck
Two brave hearts with one accord
Past all tumult, grief, and wreck,
Look up calm,--and praise the Lord,--
Outward bound.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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An ode to snow (and a speck of dust)
Began it’s life a speck of dust
One of billions
Bourne upon the air
Transformed as all things must
Be… that blossom both…
Mundane and rare
A tiny mote imbued of moisture
absorbed within… and
Without a care
Tossed willy-niilly by caprice of wind
The mote of dust
Begins to dare
To attract electrons into it’s grasp
With static gasp
And electric glare
Then starts it’s dizzy descent
Joined by another
Commingling to form a pair
More moisture still… gathered as they went
Gaining weight and boon companions
In the gelid air
Now in numbers beyond count and scale
Strange, beautiful crystals form on speck of dust
Bourne upon the air
And softly falls like gentle comets would
In feathery flakes of cosmic dust
Like pious whispers of Lama’s prayer
A simple speck of dust
One would never think
could make
The incomprehensible
The unbelievably beautiful
Exquisitely unique
…Snowflake…
poem by David Whalen
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The Other, Too, Is You (Auch der andre, der bist du)
What once Earth to me presented
she's already asking back;
comes to take what she had granted,
grasping tender speck by speck.
Strange: the more of hurts I carried
the more beauty showed the land;
What I fought for, gains of merit,
softly falling from my hand.
And the lighter I am getting,
the more heavily I walk:
"Can't you, from your moistened setting,
spare me, Earth? I beg you, talk!"
"No, I cannot spare you, Brother,
need you for the other one;
out of you I'll feed the other:
let him also see the sun.
But relax and do not rue:
For the Other, too 'tis You!"
poem by Peter Rosegger from Mein Lied (1911), translated by Walter Aue
Submitted by anonym
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A Considerable Speck
(Microscopic)
A speck that would have been beneath my sight
On any but a paper sheet so white
Set off across what I had written there.
And I had idly poised my pen in air
To stop it with a period of ink
When something strange about it made me think,
This was no dust speck by my breathing blown,
But unmistakably a living mite
With inclinations it could call its own.
It paused as with suspicion of my pen,
And then came racing wildly on again
To where my manuscript was not yet dry;
Then paused again and either drank or smelt--
With loathing, for again it turned to fly.
Plainly with an intelligence I dealt.
It seemed too tiny to have room for feet,
Yet must have had a set of them complete
To express how much it didn't want to die.
It ran with terror and with cunning crept.
It faltered: I could see it hesitate;
Then in the middle of the open sheet
Cower down in desperation to accept
Whatever I accorded it of fate.
I have none of the tenderer-than-thou
Collectivistic regimenting love
With which the modern world is being swept.
But this poor microscopic item now!
Since it was nothing I knew evil of
I let it lie there till I hope it slept.
I have a mind myself and recognize
Mind when I meet with it in any guise
No one can know how glad I am to find
On any sheet the least display of mind.
poem by Robert Frost
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A terzanelle to an island girl
On a island beach beguiling
I have met a lady by the water caressed,
slender, tiger eyed and smiling
with a warmth not guessed,
nobility moulded into every speck.
I have met a lady by the water caressed,
duskily from toe to neck,
with eyes burning into my heart,
nobility moulded into every speck,
awaking passion in every part,
as an image of charming glory
with eyes burning into my heart,
talking their own story
at our rendezvous
as an image of charming glory.
Girl, I met you
on a island beach beguiling
at our rendezvous
slender, tiger eyed and smiling.
[References: Les Fleurs du Mal: To a Colonial Lady by Charles Pierre Baudelaire. To a Colonial Lady by Roy Campbell.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.
Carl Sagan in Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space
Submitted by Catalin Popescu
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Flying in the sky,
Gazing down upon the world,
A speck in the sky,
haiku by Kieran J1996
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Sonnet: God, I wish to be a speck of dust near Thy feet!
I happen to be just a speck of dust,
O God, how can I ever question Thee?
To be worthy to touch Thy feet, I must
Be lucky to be blessed by Thee, sinfree!
And if Thou walk’st the road, my home nearby,
How happy my heart and my mind would be?
When back to life I’ll come, after I die
I wish to see Thee in Heaven, surely.
And though from earthly clod, Thou had me made,
Mysteriously but with a divine aim,
Let me from Thee through sins of mine, ne’er fade,
But reach the place of Mirth from whence I came.
Let me a speck of dust lie near Thy feet,
And never be displaced or ev’r retreat.
poem by John Celes
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Upon A Sheet Of White Paper
This subject is unto the foulest pen,
Or fairest handled by the sons of men.
'Twill also show what is upon it writ,
Be it wisely, or nonsense for want of wit,
Each blot and blur it also will expose
To thy next readers, be they friends or foes.
Comparison.
Some souls are like unto this blank or sheet,
Though not in whiteness. The next man they meet,
If wise or fool, debauched or deluder,
Or what you will, the dangerous intruder
May write thereon, to cause that man to err
In doctrine or in life, with blot and blur.
Nor will that soul conceal from who observes,
But show how foul it is, wherein it swerves.
A reading man may know who was the writer,
And, by the hellish nonsense, the inditer.
poem by John Bunyan
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Weltschmerz
my hands are always small
enough to cover
a weeping face, my body too frail
to stay at the corner of one
hospital where one by one
the friends of friends are dying...
my heart too tiny for grief,
the universe is grief, and the stars are too small to appease the tears of rain...
my feet are always not enough
for the thorns
the rocks
my brain is a tiny speck of dust
to the howling storm of misunderstanding
i wish i had enough space to scatter whatever i have
till i am finished with this
struggle for emptiness...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I was a woman in a man's world. I was a Democrat in a Republican administration. I was an intellectual in a world of bureaucrats. I talked differently. This may have made me a bit like an ink blot.
quote by Jeane Kirkpatrick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I saw no Way—The Heavens were stitched
378
I saw no Way—The Heavens were stitched—
I felt the Columns close—
The Earth reversed her Hemispheres—
I touched the Universe—
And back it slid—and I alone—
A Speck upon a Ball—
Went out upon Circumference—
Beyond the Dip of Bell—
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Dreams Coming True
to always have faith
that dreams come true
to always have hope
everything despite
to keep the light no matter
how little inside the lines of
my palm while the wind outside
gets stronger and more cruel
until the house is finally blown away
until the land becomes empty
until the tiny speck of moss
starts to grow all over again
on the gray side of the
stone beside the pavement
still not taken
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Just a Speck Dismissed
I declare it,
Erased!
Hatred.
Madness.
And the empty opportunities...
Believed by mentalities like these,
Can stir up by fantasies.
To create and make.
I declare it,
Erased!
Heartache.
Homelessness.
And those becoming hollowed,
With nothing to eat on barren plates.
I declare it,
Erased!
Every kind of sadness,
Appearing on anyone's face.
I declare this erased.
And for truth to take its proper place.
Before denial slaughters...
With a divine everlasting affect.
That has grown tired,
Of the foolishness 'IT' can no longer accept!
I declare it,
Erased!
Hatred.
Madness.
And the empty opportunities...
Believed by mentalities like these,
Can stir up by fantasies.
To create and make.
When the Almighty has lost patience.
And can not wait...
For a massive awakening,
To take place.
In the eternal heavens.
It will be just a speck dismissed...
From the eternal heavens.
Just a speck dismissed...
From the eternal heavens.
It will be just a speck dismissed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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