All posts by Eric Robert Nolan

Eric Robert Nolan graduated from Mary Washington College in 1994 with a Bachelor of Science in Psychology. He spent several years a news reporter and editorial writer for the Culpeper Star Exponent in Culpeper, Virginia. His work has also appeared on the front pages of numerous newspapers in Virginia, including The Free Lance – Star and The Daily Progress. Eric entered the field of philanthropy in 1996, as a grant writer for nonprofit healthcare organizations. Eric’s poetry has been featured by Dead Beats Literary Blog, Dagda Publishing, The International War Veterans’ Poetry Archive, and elsewhere. His poetry will also be published by Illumen Magazine in its Spring 2014 issue.

USPS 8-Cent Christmas Stamp, design by Stevan Dohanos, 1972

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“The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair …”

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.  The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”

— Henri Nouwen

Source: Philo Thoughts page on Facebook



RedPetals

Image credit: Alexnardini, CC BY-SA 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons

I Russelled up this meme so you could give it a Kurt response.

I try to resist the urge to post memes on what is supposed to be a blog about writing, but this is just too cool.

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Cover to “The Mighty Thor” #26, Mike Mignola, 1998

Marvel Comics.

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Skies over Salem, VA, December 2023

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“At Close of Day,” Maxfield Parrish, 1941

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Source: Mike Tomy on Facebook

“Young Lady in a Boat,” James Jacques Tissot, 1870

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right I probably shouldn’t even be allowed near a stove

because consequences



Update — since concerned people are querying me, please let me assure you that everything is okay.   Some steam was mean to me, but I am fine.

Stupid stove. Stupid pasta. Stupid laws of thermophysics.



 

“That valley is fatal where furnaces burn.”

“O where are you going?” said reader to rider,
“That valley is fatal where furnaces burn,
Yonder’s the midden whose odours will madden,
That gap is the grave where the tall return.”

“O do you imagine,” said fearer to farer,
“That dusk will delay on your path to the pass,
Your diligent looking discover the lacking,
Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?”

— excerpt from W. H. Auden’s “O Where Are You Going?”



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