Saturday, October 12, 2013

SHOW HOUSE on SUNDAY 13/10/13 from 3-5pm...just follow my ON SHOW BOARDS from Boland and Protea rd......


1. PROPERTY is an intellectual production. The game requires COOLNESS, right REASONING,
PROMPTNESS and PATIENCE in the players....
Ralph Waldo Emerson

2. THIEVES respect PROPERTY; they merely wish the PROPERTY to become theirs so that they
may have more respect for it!
G.K. Chesterton

3. GAMBLING promises the poor what PROPERTY performs for the rich; something for nothing..
George Bernard Shaw

Friday, September 20, 2013

listening to a great philosopher when asked to talk about HOUSES..........

He answered and said:

"Build of your imaginings a bower in the wilderness ere you build a HOUSE within the city walls.
For even as you have home-comings in your twilight, so has the wanderer in you, the ever distant and alone.
Your HOUSE is your larger body.
It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night; and it is not dreamless. Does not your HOUSE dream? and dreaming, leave the city for grove or hilltop?

Would that I could gather your HOUSES into my hand, and like a sower scatter them into forest and meadow.
Would the valleys were your streets, and the green paths your alleys, that you might seek each other through vineyards, and come with the fragrance of the earth in your garments.
But these things are not yet to be.
In the their fear your forefathers gathered you too near together. And that fear shall endure a little longer. A little longer shall your city walls separate your hearths from your fields.

And tell me, what have you in these HOUSES? And what is it you guard with fastened doors?
Have you peace, the quiet urge that reveals your power?
Have you remembrances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of your mind?
Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain?
Tell me, have you these things in your HOUSES?
Or have you only comfort and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters your HOUSE a guest and then becomes a host and then a master?

Ay, and it becomes a tamer, and with hook and scourge makes puppets of your larger desires.
Though its hands are silken, its heart is of iron.
It lulls you to sleep only to stand by your bed and jeer at the dignity of the flesh.
It makes mock of your sound senses, and lays them in thistledown like fragile vessels.
Verily the lust for comfort murders the passion of the soul, and then walks grinning in the funeral.

 But you, children of space, you restless in your rest, you shall not be trapped or tamed.
Your HOUSE shall be not an anchor, but a mast.
It shall not be a glistening film that covers a wound, but an eyelid that guards the eye.
You shall not fold your wings that you may pass through doors, nor bend your heads that they strike not a ceiling, nor fear to breath lest walls should crack and fall down.
You shall not dwell in tombs made by the dead for the living.
And though of magnificence and splendour, your HOUSE shall not hold your secret or shelter your longing.
For that which is boundless in you abides in the mansion of the sky, whose door is the morning mist, and whose windows are the silences of night".