I hate yammering. It’s embarrassing. Somebody teach me not to be psycho.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
Poem by W.B. Yeats, Broken Dreams
They say “close” only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes. It also counts in slow dancing, I suppose. And Petanque.
What is Petanque? (Wikipedia) The goal is, while standing with the feet together in a small circle, to throw hollow metal balls as close as possible to a small wooden ball called a cochonnet (jack).
You should then offer them your oldest, most battered set of 3 rusty, odd boules, of vastly different weights and sizes, insisting they play with them.
Quotation from Ray Ager, New Boules (Petanque.org)
I know I’m blind. I assume others are blind too. That’s why nature gave us feelers.
The minute I heard my first love story I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along.
Quotation from Persian poet Jalal ad-Din Rumi
I am glad ’tis night, you do not look on me,
For I am much ashamed of my exchange:
But love is blind and lovers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselves commit.
Quotation from William Shakespeare, The Merchant Of Venice