Two Unpublished Authors Await Publication

Julia Doyle arrived at Spinoza HS
with visions of creating a real Community
and to that end she announced
all submissions from the faculty
would be published in the school’s
literary magazine.
One day in the Teacher’s Center
Minna Cohen asked Julia,
“When’s the magazine coming out? ”
“Soon...but I didn’t understand a word.”
I immediately said, “Julia, you promised us
we’d get published.”
“I thought Minna would do a love story.”
“Not much love the last decade, ” she said
“Imagination, Minna. You’ve got that…
at least I hope so…
no writer can function without it.”
Minna muttered, “You said I’d make it
no matter what, just no dirty words
that’s what you said.
I need this…
just stick it in…
anyplace.”
Julia stared at Minna saying, “You’re in.”
”Thank God.”
“But Auschwitz? for a student magazine?
and so confusing, the entire story
a six page monologue of mixed up words.”
“I can see that because the narrative’s
part of a larger work I’ve been writing
for the last eleven years
about the life of Hannah Greenberg,
a doctor and survivor of Auschwitz
who went mad thirty years
after her incarceration. The Death Camp
deposited a time bomb in her soul.”
“But, Minna, you only gave the insanity.”
“How about my story? ” I asked blurted out.
“A fat man’s saga into stroke.”
“Yes.”
“I expected humor, after all
you’re a funny guy.”
“Not all fat men are funny, ” I said,
more bitterly than I intended.
“Yes, I’m sorry, but the entire tale
is uniformly dismal, yet I felt no sadness…
sorry, Bernstein, but…
why didn’t he just stop eating? ”
“Insanity, ” said Minna, her voice
so soft, so calm, but with such certainty,
“still here
now
the whole world.”

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To Minna

Do I dream? can I trust to my eye?
My sight sure some vapor must cover?
Or, there, did my Minna pass by--
My Minna--and knew not her lover?
On the arm of the coxcomb she crossed,
Well the fan might its zephyr bestow;
Herself in her vanity lost,
That wanton my Minna?--Ah, no!

In the gifts of my love she was dressed,
My plumes o'er her summer hat quiver;
The ribbons that flaunt in her breast
Might bid her--remember the giver!
And still do they bloom on thy bosom,
The flowerets I gathered for thee!
Still as fresh is the leaf of each blossom,
'Tis the heart that has faded from me!

Go and take, then, the incense they tender;
Go, the one that adored thee forget!
Go, thy charms to the feigner surrender,
In my scorn is my comforter yet!
Go, for thee with what trust and belief
There beat not ignobly a heart
That has strength yet to strive with the grief
To have worshipped the trifler thou art!

Thy beauty thy heart hath betrayed--
Thy beauty--shame, Minna, to thee!
To-morrow its glory will fade,
And its roses all withered will be!
The swallows that swarm in the sun
Will fly when the north winds awaken,
The false ones thine autumn will shun,
For whom thou the true hast forsaken!

'Mid the wrecks of the charms in December,
I see thee alone in decay,
And each spring shall but bid thee remember
How brief for thyself was the May!
Then they who so wantonly flock
To the rapture thy kiss can impart,
Shall scoff at thy winter, and mock
Thy beauty as wrecked as thy heart!

Thy beauty thy heart hath betrayed--
Thy beauty--shame, Minna, to thee
To-morrow its glory will fade--
And its roses all withered will be!
O, what scorn for thy desolate years
Shall I feel!--God forbid it in me!
How bitter will then be the tears
Shed, Minna, O Minna, for thee!

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Experience is a good teacher, but she sends in terrific bills.

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To know one's self is wisdom, but not to know one's neighbors is genius.

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Man proposes, woman forecloses.

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The drama of life begins with a wail and ends with a sigh.

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Man forgives woman anything save the wit to outwit him.

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Julia

Half of what I say is meaningless
But I say it just to reach you
Julia
Julia
Julia
Oceanchild
Calls me
So I sing a song of love
Julia
Julia
Seashell eyes
Windy smile
So I sing a song of love
Julia
Her hair of floating sky is shimmering
Glimmering
In the sun
Julia
Julia
Morning moon
Touch me
So I sing a song of love
Julia
When I cannot sing my heart
I can only speak my mind
Julia
Julia
Sleeping sand
Silent cloud
Touch me
So I sing a song of love
Julia
Calls me
So I sing a song of love
For julia
Julia
Julia

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To be loved is to be fortunate, but to be hated is to achieve distinction.

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Between flattery and admiration there often flows a river of contempt.

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When a woman is very, very bad, she is awful, but when a man is correspondingly good, he is weird.

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Satiety is a mongrel that barks at the heels of plenty.

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The difference between a saint and a hypocrite is that one lies for his religion, the other by it.

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Julia

Eyes so bright, so big and wide
Make you feel so strange
Somewhere deep inside
Its the face of an angel
Soul of the devil may care
How Id love to know
What goes on in there
She needs your love
She needs it every day
But speak of love
See her laugh and run away
Julia, which way will you go
Julia, I wanna know
Julia, only the moon and stars
Julia, know just where you are
Julia
See the dance that needs no alibi
Oh you dont need to dream
When you know you can fly
She needs your love
She needs it every day
But speak of love
See her laugh and run away
Julia, which way will you go
Julia, I wanna know
Julia, only the moon and stars
Julia, know just where you are
Julia

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Julia

Half of what i say is meaningless
But i say it just to reach you, julia
Julia, julia, oceanchild, calls me
So i sing a song of love, julia
Julia, seashell eyes, windy smile, calls me
So i sing a song of love, julia
Her hair of floating sky is shimmering, glimmering,
In the sun
Julia, julia, morning moon, touch me
So i sing a song of love, julia
When i cannot sing my heart
I can only speak my mind, julia
Julia, sleeping sand, silent cloud, touch me
So i sing a song of love, julia
Hum hum hum hum...calls me
So i sing a song of love for julia, julia, julia

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A fool bolts pleasure, then complains of moral indigestion.

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A homely face and no figure have aided many women heavenward.

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Julia Says

Here we go again, thru the backstreets of my mind
It seems my life was standing still
Whos sorry now, its funny how I didnt know it
Here we go again, fighting things we never win
It seems our love was standing still Im sorry now
Its funny how I dont feel the love
I just hear the words, julia says
She doesnt know what its all about
She doesnt seem to care at all
Open your eyes and see
Love hurts
I wont be fooled again, looking for the dreams I couldnt find
The dreams for me were left behind
Im sorry now, its funny how
I dont feel the love
I just hear the words, julia says
She doesnt know what its all about
She doesnt seem to care at all
Open your eyes and see, love hurts
Julia please, open your eyes and see
Julia wants to be on her own
Sharing her thoughts, she is all alone
Dreaming of the things she wants to be
Where julia dont belong
Julia said
She doesnt know what its all about
She doesnt know, cmon julia
She doesnt know, what its all about
Julia... ... ...

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Enthusiasms, like stimulants, are often affected by people with small mental ballast.

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There never was a woman who did not prefer an oblique compliment to a straight truth - if the latter were unflattering.

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Intuition is truly a feminine quality, but women should not mistake rash conclusions for this gift.

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