Saturday, November 15, 2014


Intellect, such a dry, dry bone,
as if flesh were meant by sense alone,
to hang the grace of love upon,
when intelligence is gone,
and respect is flown.


Ygraine said...

Intellect without love...yes, dry as bone.
Wow...this is so deep!

Have a great weekend.:)

William Michaelian said...

You, too, Ygraine, and thanks very, very much.

Jan said...

Thankfully you have plenty of both, William! This is why I love visting with make me feel welcome and share your wonderfully, talented thoughts...thank you~

William Michaelian said...

What I really have, Jan, is a friend in you. Thank you for your kind and generous words.

Lorraine Renaud said...

Intellect can also be a great manipulator in the wrong hands, not yours, you do not manipulate, but I am being torn to pieces by this master manipulator, and everything I AM I WAS DISAPPEARED, for she has said her piece,and now I'm as unwelcome as a dreaded disease, and I do not deserve it. The truth always come out in life or death...than I will be known who the real me...Intellect I have and plenty and enough to know when I'm in the hands of a great manipulator. I can't say her name, she is not know in the blogger world...I don't know how I got on this subject it just came're awesome

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Lorraine. It’s hard, I know. But there is great wisdom in those familiar words, “This too shall pass.” In the meantime, I find the lightest living comes through the art of letting go.

Lorraine Renaud said...

Then i shall, let it go, thank you William