Burnt, Torn and in Full Bloom is a collection of poems about how it feels to be in love and experience its various forms; thorns and all. Uncertainty, anger, doubt and fear are just a few thorns, but the flower of love is beautiful despite them. The poems provide a vulnerable take on emotions felt by every heart at one point of time or another. From the certain uncertainty of newly blossoming love to the gut-wrenching pain of heartbreak, there’s a bit of it all in here. Love is a constant state of emotional contradiction. But to love and be loved isn’t an option; it’s a necessity for our bare survival and this book takes you on a journey of love and its stages. Love is a beautiful yet cruel thing but to not experience it might just be crueler.

This is a selection of the best of Brecht's poems and songs, combining private and public poems from all stages of an intense and turbulent life as well as the most popular lyrics from plays such as Mahagonny and Mother Courage.

Living life in full bloom means living with hope and purpose, with imagination and vision—in a way that honors the Earth, the spirit, and one another. Elizabeth Murray encourages and nurtures you to explore four personality attributes (Gardener, Artist, Lover, and Spirit Weaver), or pathways, that create a framework for practicing mindfulness, unleashing potential, and reviving communities. As Gardeners, you will learn to observe and grow; as Artists, you'll discover creativity and new possibilities; as Lovers, you'll lead with the heart and commit to things they're passionate about; and as Spirit Weavers, you'll create rituals and express gratitude. Accented with Murray's exquisite nouveau vintage photography, 30 guided activities for each pathway help you take small but powerful action steps to define the purposes of busy lives and remember who you really are. Murray also includes profiles of "bloomers," inspiring individuals who exemplify this life and are in partnership with their local communities and international organizations focused on people and causes. A step-by-step exercise on life mapping helps to identify passions, skills, and community needs and offers specific actions to serve the greater good.

The obituary pages of our quality newspapers have been described as 'oases of calm in a world gone mad', 'a lovely part of the paper to linger in', and 'writing that matters'. Entertaining, inspiring and informative, they serve as a legitimate instrument of history, and have enjoyed an extraordinary revival in popularity over the past twenty years. Life After Death investigates-and celebrates-the development of the obituary form in the British, American, and Australian press. Author Nigel Starck tracks down the earliest exercise in obituary publication (in 1622), then traces the evolution of the form over four centuries, from times when the obituary was the reserve of royalty and privilege to its contemporary egalitarian mode. Along the way Dr Starck delves into a multitude of lives, from the heroic to the comic, the saintly to the downright villainous, the exemplary to the eccentric. Meet, in the posthumous cast list, Major Digby Tatham-Warter, of Britain's Parachute Regiment, who carried an umbrella into battle just in case it rained; the absent-minded Australian barrister Pat Lanigan, who drove from Canberra to Sydney and then flew back, leaving his car behind; and the eccentric American publisher Eddie Clontz, whose newspaper reported (exclusively, of course) that 'tiny terrorists' were disguising themselves as garden gnomes. Life After Death also incorporates a connoisseur's collection of ten obituaries reprinted in full: the subjects include Helen Keller, Diana Mosley, Quentin Crisp, George Wallace, and Rosa Parks. Without doubt, Life After Death is a book that will outlive its author-as an enduring celebration of journalism's dying art. 'Canon Smith expired after suffering an unfortunate disagreement with his bishop.'-The Sydney Morning Herald, 1882 'Minnesota Fats died at his home in Nashville. He was eighty-two, or perhaps ninety-five.'-The New York Times, 1996