Zeolite: Nature’s Deodorizer

Raw Zeolite from My Bookcase - Sunni's Photo's

Once again, nature shows us she can do it better, and in reusable fashion. Have you ever wondered if there was a natural solution to pet and household odors, toxic gases, and musty basements? Unlike conventional deodorizers that merely mask odors and certainly don’t address toxic gases, this product literally removes them from the air. This natural alternative is the mineral zeolite, the only mineral known to man to have a negative ionic charge.


What Is It?

Zeolite occurs naturally when volcanic mineral is crystallized. In fact, there are at least 50 different types existing in nature (in rock form), though the type which is recognized as superior is known as the clinoptiolite group. What makes zeolite unusual is that it is the only known negatively charged mineral in an original state, which means it naturally absorbs pollutants from the air. This is because the vast majority of molecules known to exist have some degree of polarity. In other words, they have both a positive and negative side. The positive side of the polarized molecules is attracted to the negative charge of the zeolite crystals. When the positive side of the polarized molecules makes contact with the negative charged surface of the zeolite, the molecules attach themselves to the crystal. If the molecules are smaller than four angstroms, they can enter inside the crystal, taking advantage of the enormous surface area. Technically, this process is “adsorption,” not absorption with a “b.” The process of adsorption refers to the locking onto, or retention of ions or molecules of a gas or liquid, the surface of a different substance.

Zeolite Crystal Structure - Clipart

However, the most remarkable property of zeolite is that, in rock form, it is reusable indefinitely! It is available to the public in one and two pound breather bags that can adsorb odors and gases for up to three months, depending on the situation. After that time, take the bags outdoors to renew them. The action of direct sunlight on the bags causes the gases and odors held in check within the rocks to release, leaving the bags of zeolite fresh and clean ready to use repeatedly. Neat trick, eh?

Zeolite Crystal Structure - Clipart

It has been more than 50 years since chemists discovered that zeolite minerals had unique properties, a discovery that prompted Union Carbide to develop expensive synthetic substitutes, which they later realized were inferior to the natural version. Primarily today, synthetic zeolite finds a use in fluidized catalytic processes to convert crude oil into refined hydrocarbon products such as gasoline, kerosene, etc. According to a report in “New Scientist” magazine, natural zeolite minerals “...consist of a tetrahedral network of oxygen and silicon atoms where aluminum replaces some of the silicon to form an alumino-silicate.” The result is an extended honeycomb of channels and cavities where the aluminum atoms have fewer electrons than silicon available for bonding with the oxygen atoms, thereby causing an unbalanced electrical charge. This gives zeolite its negative charge. Because these channels provide up to several hundred square meters of surface area on which chemical reactions can take place, zeolite can adsorb huge amounts of materials, ions, or gas molecules (up to 30% of their dry weight).

Many Uses

Zeolite can adsorb toxins such as bacterial odors, formaldehyde, sulfur dioxide etc., as well as toxins like mercury, lead, and radioactive gases. This is why using zeolite made sense to clean up the nuclear accidents at Chernobyl and Three Mile Island. It is also a good drying agent, actually working better than traditional desiccates, such as silica and alumina gels. In Europe, natural zeolitic rock finds its way into building stone as an ingredient in cement or as lightweight insulation, while in Japan; zeolite becomes filler by paper makers.

Over the last few years, zeolite has shown its benefits to chemically sensitive people. Many publications in this country and around the world have written highly of this wonderful mineral. Also, this is an important find to many pet lovers who, instead of using nasty chemicals, have a safe natural alternative to deal with pet odors.

Zeolite in Powder Form - Clipart

Manufacturers also offer zeolite in a non-reusable powder form. The powder can become a deodorizing dry pet bath, or in its finer form, a deodorizer for shoes. Even adding two or three tablespoons to the cat’s litter box weekly will virtually eliminate the offending odor. I hope that many people will one day discard their hurtful chemical products and utilize this special mineral called zeolite.
I’m sure before the general pubic discovered zeolite; the Indians used it, probably discovering its uses by accident. They lived off the land, taking advantage of things in nature, unlike most of us do today.

For any of you who are wondering why I know so much about this, it’s because I used to own a mail order environmental business years ago. Zeolite is more conventional today. Many hardware stores carry it.



Color me Yellow

Gerbera Daisies from my Garden - Sunni's Photo's

Lady Bank's Rose from my Garden - Sunni's Photo's

Yellow is not my favorite color, but it is bright and cheery. It reminds of summer and warm weather, which I love. I always plant yellow flowers in my garden, although finding something the chipmunks won’t eat is always a challenge. They even eat marigolds, which I thought were bitter. They certainly don’t smell very nice. Once the bright yellow flowers are gone, they generally leave the leaves alone, so maybe the only bitter parts are the leaves. My grandmother used to put them on the edges of her garden to keep some of the pests out. She had many old remedies for things.


However, yellow seems to be the choice for lots of things. Have you ever wondered why school buses are yellow, and caution lights, yardsticks, and even pencils? I guess sometimes that my mind gets to going to strange places. I’m always on a quest for answers that I don’t know, so I decided to look this up. Why not use blue, or purple for some of these things?

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Yellow and red are bright and the most noticed color by people. School buses in the US have been painted yellow since 1939 because it is a visible color. It is common for color-blind people not to see red. That’s interesting, isn’t it?

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Pencils have been yellow since 1890 and not for the obvious reason, which is so you can easily find it on your desk. Supposedly, the best graphite came from China and yellow there was a regal color associated with royalty and respect, so American pencil manufacturers began painting the pencils bright yellow.

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Caution lights are yellow because the color provides the best visibility in the dark while being easy on the eyes. The lights used to be halogen bulbs, but the ones used today are LED because of the longer lifespan and better wear and tear in the weather.

One would guess that other things, like the yardstick and ruler started out yellow for easy visibility. Today they come in various colors.

Thanks for visiting.  I hope you learned something from this post. 

X is for Xcalibur

I love all the King Arthur tales, so I thought this was appropriate for the X post today.

Excalibur - Free Clipart

There is some debate over this sword. Is Excalibur the sword that young Arthur pulled from the stone to become king? Jeffrey of Monmouth wrote a detailed account of King Arthur around 1135. He calls the sword Caliburn instead of Excalibur. He writes that King Arthur, born late in the fifth century, died around 542. The legend goes that the forging of Excalibur took place on the Isle of Avalon.

King Arthur - Clipart

Arthur acquired the sword from the Lady of the Lake, who hands it to him. History says the sword had an unbreakable blade and a scabbard that would protect the king in battle. Eventually, in the end when Arthur dies in battle, the sword, given back to the Lady of the Lake, disappears forever. King Arthur wins many battles with this sword before he meets his end.

The act of depositing swords in sacred lakes and rivers was a Celtic practice from ancient times. Perhaps it was part of a funeral rite. Most accounts from early times were hand written, so it is hard to say what really happened back then. Excavations of the River Thames in England have uncovered many axes, sickles and other weapons.

King Arthur's Round Table - Clipart

I guess I find the whole story of King Arthur, the Knights of the Round Table, and Camelot fascinating. What a grand idea to have a round table where everyone is equal. I can picture the knights sitting there at this massive wood table in the grand hall of the castle, each proven his loyalty to King Arthur and his ability in battle, each living by the Knights Code of Honor, to be chivalrous and brave.

King Arthur's Camelot - Clipart

An impressive castle, white and sparkling upon a hill, can capture the imagination. I can picture the ladies in their long gowns, the hems rustling against the stone walkways, knights standing guard while others practice battle drills in the courtyard, the clang of their swords and shouts ringing up to the windows above. Servants slave away over hot fires in the kitchen, while others carry basins and other things as they take care of every need for the ladies of the castle.

Battle - Clipart

Preparing for Battle - Clipart

I am so into the story that I even took a fencing class, at one point, to see what it felt like to fight with a sword. Of course, we didn’t use broadswords. I have a lot of respect for the men who could actually pick the things up and fight with another for hours and still be able to walk away alive. I have a large sword in my collection with my collection of books.

Jousting - Clipart

I also attend all the medieval faires that I can and watch the jousting tournaments. That is thrilling. It gets so loud with cheering that I can picture the actual tournaments from years ago in my mind.

Merlin - Clipart

Then you throw the wizard and bard Merlin into the mix, and I’m hooked. I never tire of this tale, and can read these stories all day long. I probably have at least thirty King Arthur books in my library. I do think he was a real King and the greatest one Britain has ever had. If people lived by the same codes today, the world may be a better place.

What do you think? Was King Arthur real, or just a fairy tale? My husband and I go round and round over this, because he is sure that King Arthur never lived and is a made up story.

Wind, a Double-edged Sword - Sculpting Beauty or a Force of Destruction

Kayenta - Sunni's Photo's

Snow Canyon State Park - Sunni's Photo's

Living in the desert, we are subject to windstorms, but without those brutal winds, we wouldn’t have all the carved, red rocks around us. The sweeping beauty of the canyons and sheer cliffs of rock walls rise up out of the desert plain, sagebrush, and cactus keeping them company. It took thousands of years to carve the beauty all around us. Without the wind, we would only have lumps of red, black, and cream-colored mountains to look at, all smooth and not near as intriguing as they are now. Amazing places like the Grand Canyon wouldn’t exist without the help of the wind. Therefore, looking from this angle, the wind is a good thing.

Grand Canyon National Park - Sunni's Photo's

Bryce Canyon National Park - Sunni's Photo's

Bryce Canyon National Park - Sunni's Photo's

However, I don’t relish it blowing 60 MPH in the dead of winter, when I have to go out and recover the poor plants I’m trying to protect, without freezing to death while doing it.

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It can also cause quite a mess when it brings blowing sand to clean up later. However, even this has its own beauty as I can look out my window and see it rippling across the desert in red-colored sheets.

In its milder version, wind becomes a breeze that can cool us on a hot summer day when a gentle puff of air is a relief. This can be as welcome as a tall glass of icy lemonade.

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Free Clipart

Without the wind we could never fly a kite or drift around in a hot balloon, once we got over our fright of floating around up there in a basket that only comes up to your thigh. Someday I will post that story.

Bushes would have to stay wherever they sprang up because nothing would be around to uproot them and carry them away to a different location.

Wind can also be a destructive force when it takes the form of a hurricane or tornado, ripping across the land leveling infrastructures, destroying homes, and taking human lives. Every year certain parts of the country fall victim to this destructive force of nature.

Flooding from Hurricane Damage

As people going about our daily lives, we probably never give much thought to the wind, unless it directly affects us in some way. The wind always draws my attention to it all the time because it’s a part of living in the desert.

We have had the barbecue almost blown off the patio a few times. It has blown over heavy medal chairs that have fallen and broken things and has blown with such gusto as to move a cargo trailer we have parked on the side of the house. One time it even took the trashcans and beat over $300 worth of damage into my husband’s truck. We now keep a chain around those cans at all times. Everyone in our neighborhood has lost things to the wind, blown away into the desert and probably miles away.

On one occasion, a dust storm came up while I was at the grocery store. By the time I loaded the car and got in, my mouth was full of gritty sand.

Maybe this post will be a reminder to some of just how much things in nature can affect us everyday.

Are You a Victim of Your Own Making?

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This is what the dictionary says:


Vic-tim

Noun

1.  A person who suffers from a destructive or injurious action or agency: a victim of an automobile accident

2.  A person who is deceived or cheated, as by his or her own emotions or ignorance, by the dishonesty of others, or by some impersonal agency: a victim of misplaced confidence, the victim of a swindler, a victim of an optical illusion.

3.  A person or animal sacrificed or regarded as sacrificed: war victims

4.  A living creature sacrificed in religious rites.

Naturally, as writers, the first thing we think about is the victim in our books or stories. However, I think we can be the victim of our own circumstances as well. Sometimes taking control of our lives can be a hard thing to do.

I got to thinking about this as I was lying in bed trying to sleep. I think I got about two hours between 1:30 and 3:30 and then I was wide-awake, tossing, and turning, finally getting up at 6:15 when I felt myself getting drowsy. Sometimes on days like this, I go ahead, fall to sleep, and then am shaken awake by 9 AM and accused of “sleeping in.” This is a cardinal sin at our house. Other times, I just get up because it’s easier, instead of getting the extra rest I need, even if it is a long day.

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My husband has a thing about keeping schedules and that hasn’t changed, even if he is retired. He grew up like that with strict rules, whereas I grew up the opposite. Sometimes that can be a problem.

I listened to my husband snoring all night, which is a good thing because he is cranky if he doesn’t get his eight hours. At least somebody was sleeping. I tried to put all thoughts out of my mind, but before long, I was thinking about working on my book in the peace and quiet of the day, and the grueling day of exhausting yard work that lay ahead later. I was thankful we took yesterday off. My body certainly needed that rest.

Then my thoughts started to wonder around as they usually do. I remembered I forgot to set up the coffee pot, as I do every night before bed, so I got up in the dark and took care of that. Back in bed, I started wondering if I can go on another 25 or 30 years on two hours of sleep a night. This led me to ponder the idea of buying an over-the-counter sleeping aide. Hmmm...

Anyway, I had the last letter to write up for the challenge and then it came to me – the V word – because I am a victim of insomnia. I have been this way all of my life, and can’t remember a time when it wasn’t hard to fall to sleep, unless I am simply exhausted from working hard and staying up for hours. However, that being said, I have a lot on my mind lately with this pending move and all that entails, as well as working on my book, and keeping up with all the other stuff around the house. Things feel almost tumultuous to me. I like it when it’s just the opposite – peaceful and quiet. Sometimes I wonder if it will ever be that way again.

Stepping into my Dreams is an Adventure into the World of the Unusual

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I’m sure some of you are like this too. Unreality is really the only way I can describe it. I’ve been keeping a dream journal for years and the first thing I do when I get up is write down my dream. Of course, sometimes my husband starts talking and most of the time the dream flies out of my head, but not always. If it’s weird, it stays with me, and he knows when he sees me scribbling in my notebook that I’m recording my dream. I’m sure he thinks this is an odd practice, but I could write a whole book on dreams.


Just last night, I dreamed I was in a town and the letter “K” was missing from everything there. There weren’t any on the street signs, or the license plates, or the stores. This was driving me crazy and when I asked where they were, no one was alarmed at all. They all thought this was perfectly normal.

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My dream flashed to the middle of the night and we were asleep when there was a pounding on the door. The pounding would not stop, so my husband got up to answer it. In walked a group of people who were partying and celebrating “K” day. They sat on the edge of the bed and told us all about it. When they finally left, it was almost dawn and we decided we should go and do that to them in the middle of the night, but we never did.

When we went to town later that morning, there had been a strong wind or perhaps a small tornado during the night. There was debris everywhere. Shingles had flown off some roofs and some were inside the stores along with dirt, pieces of brush, crumpled paper, and other debris.

Photo courtesy of Maxexphoto

I helped a little, old gray-haired lady sweep up her shop, which was full of various figurines. There were many cats sitting around on throw rugs that lay rumpled up because of the storm.

Then I was riding in the back of a pick up truck going to a funeral in the same town. I could smell strong exhaust fumes back there. I was hollering, “Please somebody, just tell me why all the “K’s” are missing before I die.”

It was then that my husband woke me up. He said he couldn’t find his cell phone, which ended up being in the pocket of his pants in the closet.

You can see how a writer would find a missing “K” a problem. I’ve had dreams weirder than this, but this is a good example. How about you? Do you have any weird ones to share?

T is for Tie-Dye

My Booth at the San Clemente Street Faire - Southern CA



There is a special place for tie-dye in my world. I suppose it always will be dear to me. I grew up with it. I love all the designs and the colors, the brighter the better. Like most people growing up in the sixties, I dabbled in this area of art. After I moved to CA in the 1970’s, I got into it big time. By this, I mean I had my own tie-dye factory in my garage. I made clothes to sell at the street markets around southern California, for others and for my own booth.


I had about whatever you would want in the clothing area, including, T-shirts for adults, and kids, tank tops, shorts, shirts, skirts, sweatshirts, leggings, long and short dresses with sleeves or without, onesie’s for babies, bandannas, tote bags, belts, etc.

I purchased industrial sewing machines and made trips to the garment district up in LA. I bought material by the bolt and sewed my own clothes to dye. I made everything except the T-shirts, onesies, and bandannas. I kept very busy with cutting things out, sewing them up, and then dyeing them.

I bought an old used washer and put it in the garage to use for my tie-dye. Workbenches lined one side of my house outside, and that was my dye work area. I sewed together a thirty-five-foot length of shade fabric, so I could work out there in shade in the summer.

Inside the garage, I had a table dedicated as my folding area, where I would weave and tie the designs into my clothing. On the other side, I had a washout table and sink. It was a big operation for one person.

I spent hours outside bent over my dye buckets. I mixed my own colors from dry packages of dye I would buy. Everything had to stay covered in plastic overnight, and then I washed it out the next day, first in the sink and then the washer. The hand wash was necessary to remove most of the excess dye.

My biggest enjoyment was seeing the colorful designs emerge after I took out all the rubber bands. Seeing the miracle of white fabric transformed into something so beautiful right before my very eyes urged me on to try something new. I was amazed every time, even if I had done the same design a hundred times. Once I saw the finished product, I forgot about all my sore muscles and aching back.

This was very hard work. I was usually exhausted by the time the weekend came, and it was time to go and set up my booth somewhere for the weekend. The worst part of this was getting up before daylight, which I hated because I’m a night owl. Once I was at the show and by the time 10 am rolled around, I was wake and ready to do business. I even worked like this with a pinched sciatic nerve in my leg for two and a half years. Painkillers didn’t even fix that, but I persisted with my tie-dye business, even though it was killing me half the time to stand up so many hours in a row. One things about me though is that I am stubborn, determined, and not a quitter.

I wore tie-dye every day in those years. My husband got sick of seeing it. I don’t wear it as much anymore, but I still have lots of it, drag it out now and then, and put it on. Those were some good days. I’m glad I could experience the whole thing, even if it did beat me to death.

Richie Havens 1941-2013 RIP

I’m adding this to this post today because, if you from this era, you will remember the man who opened the Woodstock festival in August 1969 – Richie Havens. He died unexpectedly on Monday from a heart attack. When I learned he was only 72, I was shocked because somehow I always thought he was older. He was good guitar player. I’ll always remember the way he pelted out “Freedom,” while tapping his foot, and dressed in the garments of the era. I can still see him on the stage. This is a song I can’t hear now and not think of this artist. RIP 1941 - 2013


If you’d care to listen here is a link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fA51wyl-9IE

Street Scene

I drove around the big loop three or four times, looking for a parking space. It was 1 pm, which is my preferred time for going out to things, and certainly a lot better than hauling all my stuff in to set up at 5 am. This time I was going to the street faire as a spectator, instead of a vendor. Parking was in short supply, promising the street would be busy. I locked the car, threw my bag over my shoulder, and was off, cutting through the alley toward Grand and the semi-annual Escondido Street Faire. Although it was October, the day was a warm one and the sun felt good.

Sunni's Photo's

Once on the street, it was all abuzz, a sea of people meandering here and there, like all street faires. It was noisy with chattering, laughter, and the squeals of kids as they ran through the crowd with some trinket.

People stopped to look at the wide variety of wares for sale in the booths that lined both sides of the street and the center median. The peaks of tents in all colors spread out as far as the eye could see.

Sometimes I was walking against the flow of the people, as they pushed past with strollers, or pulling tots by the hand. Dogs walked alongside their masters, some with brightly colored bandannas around their necks. Ever now and then, I could hear a yelp and barking, as a skirmish with another dog ensued, passing to close for comfort.

Music blared from several stages, Mexican, rock and roll, blues, and jazz. Some people danced in the street.

Sunni's Photo's

A million smells wafted in the air, grilled onions, sausages, hamburgers, burritos, Chinese and Greek. People walked by with hotdogs, the pungent smell of mustard catching my nostrils. Some of the crowd had roasted corn, the blackened shucks hanging down, some had big soft pretzels, ice cream cones melting in the sun, or funnel cakes dusted with powdered sugar.

Ice cream stands and lemonade vendors set up shop on the corners, along with people selling fruit smoothies, bottled water, and soft drinks.

Adding to the revelry was the sound of vendors shouting over the crowd to sell their wares, or giving demonstrations on some new fancy chopping, dicing appliance. Fair-goers indulged in getting their sneakers cleaned, their bodies massaged, their palms read, or inked up with temporary tattoos. Kids were getting their faces painted, and teens having ribbons woven and braided in their hair.

People tall and short, fat and thin, waited in long lines for lunch from one of the many food vendors. The aroma of grilled onions lifted on the breeze and carried to the end of the block, making me hungry.

Sunni's Photo's

The breeze felt delightful. The pavement was hot, as the sun beat down, causing people to look for shade in the vendor’s tents. The booths went on and on, block after block of clothing, gold and silver jewelry, and crafts in wood, glass, and ceramic. There were booths filled with wind chimes and windmills, birdhouses and figurines and quilts. Kids riding llamas were coming down the street and on the side, others doing acrobatics on padded mats laid out on the pavement.

I stopped for a while to listen to a group perform music from the Andes on flutes made of reed and cane. When they stopped for a break, I walked briskly and then meandered among the crowds in the heat of the sunny afternoon, pushing past sweaty people in tank tops and shorts, ever now and then a whiff of perfume or essential oil coming from a booth, or passer by.

I always enjoy being in the frenzy of a street scene, but usually I go alone, if I’m not working it, so I decide my schedule. I can take my time, hurry up, or meet old friends and get the latest news. I like to inspect and admire the work of fellow artists. It never ceases to amaze me at how ingenious some people can be.

I found my old friend, Rena, in her space in the median, her old maroon and white tent overflowing with scrunchies and other hair adornments. We chatted awhile and then I left to find Henry’s booth, a dear old friend who makes and sells his own incense and incense burners, along with essential oils.

Henry invited me in and I welcomed the shade as we sat and laughed for an hour, in between his customers. Naturally, he looked great in one of my handmade tie-dye tee shirts. It surprised him I wasn’t participating in the faire because I always do, but this time Stan was here, and he was selling my product. His tie-dye booth was a few blocks down, and I had already gone by to see how he was doing.

Sunni's Photo's

I was thoroughly enjoying my time as a spectator after slaving over the dye buckets, and washout sink over the last week. Henry totally understood because he had spent the whole week stocking up on incense. I bought some of his three-hour sticks to take home and left, as things were wrapping up around 4:30 pm.

I was tired and sunburned, as I walked back down the alley to my car. I had walked the entire faire twice, which was probably about two miles long. I enjoyed myself so much that I was looking forward to the next one.

I wrote this article because years ago I used to do many street faires, the most being 75 in one year. It was a way of life for me over a number of years when I lived in southern CA. My next post will be about the tie-dye business. Thanks for reading.

Railroads and Hobos

Railroad tracks - Public Domain Photo

Growing up on the farm, we lived about a mile from the railroad tracks, maybe less. I’m not too good at distance. Our grandparent’s house was just off the highway and beyond that were the railroad tracks. Our house was further away from the highway, down a winding gravel road.

In our childhood games, we would walk to the highway and look across the road to watch the freight trains coming down the tracks, so we could wave to the man in the caboose. I wonder what he thought about a bunch of dirty, barefoot farm kids standing there waving like mad. He always waved at us, and I imagine we weren’t the only ones to do this. We were always looking for entertainment.

Caboose

We spent the night at Mamaw’s house several times during the summer. We would lie in the bed and watch the reflection of light that ran across the walls, left by cars going down the highway. We heard the wailing horn of the freight trains across the road, as they passed by the house.

Every year, we would walk across the highway to the railroad tracks to pick the wild blackberries that grew there, taking ladders with us to throw over the brambles of berry bushes that grew in large clumps, dense as a thicket.

Blackberries - Public Domain Photo

However, the scariest things to us were the hobos. In those days, they travelled by riding the boxcars, jumping off and wandering to the farmhouses in search of a meal. At first, we didn’t know what to think. They scared us to death, scruffy old men in need of a bath and a shave. They were dressed in shabby clothes and worn out shoes, carrying the typical stick over there shoulder with all they owned tied up in a bandanna or worn-out rag, just like something out of the movies on TV.

Hobos - Public Domain Photo

Mamaw would never turn them away. She made them wait at the gate to the yard, or at the bottom of the porch, if they ventured into the yard. She would scrounge up something to give them to eat, even if it was leftover biscuits. She used to tell us they were down on their luck, and the right thing to do was to help them. She had a big heart that way.

Old Boxcar - Courtesy of Wikipedia

On the other hand, she always made sure we stayed in the house, until they walked back to the highway to hop the next train going by.

Q is for Quotes

I thought I’d share a few favorites with you. This is probably too many, and it’s an edited list.

You’ve only got three choices in life: Give up, give in, or give it all you’ve got
....Unknown

Dreams have no Boundaries... Unknown

Expecting too much too soon is always going to disappoint. Celebrate your daily progress towards the goal, not just the goal. .... Unknown

Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So do it today. Explore. Dream. Discover. Just do it....H Jackson Brown Jr.

There is no failure, only feedback. I encourage myself with that knowledge.....Unknown

Painful and unfair things happen to everyone. Losers brood on it. Winners use it to learn and grow. ....Unknown

Starting is the hard bit, after that everything is easy. ...Unknown

This print can be puchased here: www.minted.com/art-prints

Happiness is an attitude. We either make ourselves miserable, or happy and strong. The amount of work is the same. Harry F. Banks

Just remember, you can do anything you set your mind to, but it takes action, perseverance, and facing your fears. ...Gillian Anderson

Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.... Dale Carnegie

Use what talents you possess, the woods will be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.... Henry van Dyke

Live your life each day as you would climb a mountain. An occasional glance towards the summit keeps the goal in mind, but many beautiful scenes are to be observed from each new vintage point.... Harold B Melchart

I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.... Marilyn Monroe

Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.... John Lennon

“The man who does not read has no advantage over the man who cannot read.... Mark Twain

“I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world... Albert Einstein

It is never too late to be what you might have been.... George Eliot

I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library... Jorge Luis Borges

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you... Maya Angelou

People are just as happy as they make up their minds to be.... Abraham Lincoln

Reality continues to ruin my life.... Bill Watterson

Breathe. Let go. And remind yourself that this very moment is the only one you know you have for sure... Oprah Winfrey

A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies,” said Jojen. “The man who never reads lives only one.

You never have to change anything you got up in the middle of the night to write....
Saul Bellow

If my doctor told me I had only six minutes to live, I wouldn't brood. I'd type a little faster.... Isaac Asimov

Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass....
Anton Chekhov

And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.... Sylvia Plath

You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.... Ray Bradbury

Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can only see as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.... E. L. Doctorow

A writer never has a vacation. For a writer life consists of either writing or thinking about writing.... Eugene Ionesco

All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives lies a mystery. Writing a book is a long, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.... George Orwell

If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot...reading is the creative center of a writer’s life...you cannot hope to sweep someone else away by the force of your writing until it has been done to you.... Sir Stanley Unwin

A writer is working when he's staring out of the window.... Burton Rascoe

A writer lives, at best, in a state of astonishment.... William Sansom

The greatest part of a writer’s time is spent in reading, in order to write; a man will turn over half a library to make one book.... Samuel Johnson

Happy Writing all!