All infractions of love and equity in our social relations are speedily punished. They are punished by fear. Whilst I stand in simple relations to my fellow-man, I have no displeasure in meeting him. We meet as water meets water, or as two currents of air mix, with perfect diffusion and interpenetration of nature. But as soon as there is any departure from simplicity, and attempt at halfness, or good for me that is not good for him, my neighbour feels the wrong; he shrinks from me as far as I have shrunk from him; his eyes no longer seek mine; there is war between us; there is hate in him and fear in me.
If we want to be loved, we must disclose ourselves. If we want to love someone, he must permit us to know him. This would seem to be obvious. Yet most of us spend a great part of our lives thinking up ways to avoid becoming known.Indeed, much of human life is best described as impersonation. We are role players, every one of us. We say that we feel things we do not feel. We say things we did not do. We say that we believe things we do not believe. We pretend that we are loving when we are full of hostility. We pretend that we are calm and indifferent when we are actually trembling with anxiety and fear.Of course we cannot tell even the people we know and love everything we think or feel. But our mistakes are nearly always in the other direction. Even in families -- good families -- people wear masks a great deal of the time.
Showing posts with label quotes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quotes. Show all posts
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Kisses
Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire,A million scarce would quench desire; Still would I steep my lips in bliss, And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be, Still would I kiss and cling to thee: Nought should my kiss from thine dissever, Still would we kiss and kiss for ever; E'en though the numbers did exceedThe yellow harvest's countless seed; To part would be a vain endeavour: Could I desist?--ah! never--never.
"Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score;Then to that twenty, add a hundred more:A thousand to that hundred: so kiss on,To make that thousand up a million.Treble that million, and when that is done,Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun."
"Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score;Then to that twenty, add a hundred more:A thousand to that hundred: so kiss on,To make that thousand up a million.Treble that million, and when that is done,Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun."
Kisses
Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire,A million scarce would quench desire; Still would I steep my lips in bliss, And dwell an age on every kiss; Nor then my soul should sated be, Still would I kiss and cling to thee: Nought should my kiss from thine dissever, Still would we kiss and kiss for ever; E'en though the numbers did exceedThe yellow harvest's countless seed; To part would be a vain endeavour: Could I desist?--ah! never--never.
"Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score;Then to that twenty, add a hundred more:A thousand to that hundred: so kiss on,To make that thousand up a million.Treble that million, and when that is done,Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun."
"Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score;Then to that twenty, add a hundred more:A thousand to that hundred: so kiss on,To make that thousand up a million.Treble that million, and when that is done,Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun."
Literary Quotations
"If the radiance of a thousand sunsWere to burst at once into the skyThat would be like the splendor of the Mighty one --I am become Death,The shatterer of Worlds."
"Through me you pass into the city of woe:Through me you pass into eternal pain:Through me among the people lost for aye.Justice the founder of my fabric moved:To rear me was the task of power divine,Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.Before me things create were none, save thingsEternal, and eternal I shall endure.All hope abandon, ye who enter here."
"Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!A farewell, and then forever!Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,While the star of hope she leaves him?Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me,Dark despair around benights me."
"The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While secret laughter titter'd round the place;The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love,The matrons glance that would those looks reprove:These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these,With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please;These were thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,These were thy charms -- but all these charms are fled."
"Through me you pass into the city of woe:Through me you pass into eternal pain:Through me among the people lost for aye.Justice the founder of my fabric moved:To rear me was the task of power divine,Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.Before me things create were none, save thingsEternal, and eternal I shall endure.All hope abandon, ye who enter here."
"Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!A farewell, and then forever!Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,While the star of hope she leaves him?Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me,Dark despair around benights me."
"The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While secret laughter titter'd round the place;The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love,The matrons glance that would those looks reprove:These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these,With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please;These were thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,These were thy charms -- but all these charms are fled."
Boxing
The fight is won or lost far away from witnesses—behind the lines, in the gym, and out there on the road, long before I dance under those lights.
There ain't nothing like being in the corner, and the trainer is whispering in your ear and another guy is putting in your mouthpiece. Five seconds to go, the boom! The bell. It's more exciting than looking down a cliff.
In the films the good guy always wins, but this is one bad guy who ain't gonna lose.
There ain't nothing like being in the corner, and the trainer is whispering in your ear and another guy is putting in your mouthpiece. Five seconds to go, the boom! The bell. It's more exciting than looking down a cliff.
In the films the good guy always wins, but this is one bad guy who ain't gonna lose.
Golf
n general, the short game has been most effective. Besides working hard on it I always used my imagination with a touch of feel in my hands. You should hit the ball according to what your mind dictates but previously you should visualise the shot. This can be achieved with extremely high concentration. All the difficult shots are hit with the hands. I have hit shots simply by visualising the run of the ball. I had no problem in doing this because my mind clearly indicated I could not miss. I do not stand out any particular shot because it is necessary to believe in yourself to overcome any difficulties.
Every time a fellow golfer gives me a piece of advice I have thought about it. A different thing is that this advice can be introduced into my golfing routine. Jaime, O’Grady and others are good friends who have wished me the best and I am grateful for that. My best game has come from the strength of my mind. When you have a balanced and rhythmical swing you should exercise it with looseness and imagination. Finally I must say as long as I believed in my own movements I had the winning results. Moreover, I still believe my swing was the best.
Every time a fellow golfer gives me a piece of advice I have thought about it. A different thing is that this advice can be introduced into my golfing routine. Jaime, O’Grady and others are good friends who have wished me the best and I am grateful for that. My best game has come from the strength of my mind. When you have a balanced and rhythmical swing you should exercise it with looseness and imagination. Finally I must say as long as I believed in my own movements I had the winning results. Moreover, I still believe my swing was the best.
Relationships
"It seems to me that the best relationships, the ones that last, are frequently the ones rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than the night before, like a switch has been flicked somewhere, and the person who was just a friend is suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with."
All infractions of love and equity in our social relations are speedily punished. They are punished by fear. Whilst I stand in simple relations to my fellow-man, I have no displeasure in meeting him. We meet as water meets water, or as two currents of air mix, with perfect diffusion and interpenetration of nature. But as soon as there is any departure from simplicity, and attempt at halfness, or good for me that is not good for him, my neighbour feels the wrong; he shrinks from me as far as I have shrunk from him; his eyes no longer seek mine; there is war between us; there is hate in him and fear in me.
All infractions of love and equity in our social relations are speedily punished. They are punished by fear. Whilst I stand in simple relations to my fellow-man, I have no displeasure in meeting him. We meet as water meets water, or as two currents of air mix, with perfect diffusion and interpenetration of nature. But as soon as there is any departure from simplicity, and attempt at halfness, or good for me that is not good for him, my neighbour feels the wrong; he shrinks from me as far as I have shrunk from him; his eyes no longer seek mine; there is war between us; there is hate in him and fear in me.
art quotes
Now the work of art also represents a state of final equilibrium, of accomplished order and maximum relative entropy, and there are those who resent it. But art is not meant to stop the stream of life. Within a narrow span of duration and space the work of art concentrates a view of the human condition; and sometimes it marks the steps of progression, just as a man climbing the dark stairs of a medieval tower assures himself by the changing sights glimpsed through its narrow windows that he is getting somewhere after all.
No sketches first, no studies, that’s long past: I do what many dream of all their lives, Dream? strive to do, and agonize to do, And fail in doing. I could count twenty such On twice your fingers, and not leave this town, Who strive - you don’t know how the others striveTo paint a little thing like that you smearedCarelessly passing with your robes afloat, -Yet do much less, so much less, Someone says, (I know his name, no matter) - so much less! Well, less is more, Lucrezia: I am judged.
"On the contrary, art consists of inventing and not copying. The Italian Renaissance is a period of artistic decadence. Those men, devoid of their predecessors' inventiveness, thought they were stronger as imitators-that is false. Art must be free in its inventiveness, it must raise us above too much reality. This is its goal, whether it is poetry or painting. The plastic life, the picture, is made up of harmonious relationships among volumes, lines, and colors. These are the three forces that must govern works of art. If, in organizing these three essential elements harmoniously, one finds that objects, elements of reality, can enter into the composition, it may be better and may give the work more richness. But they must be subordinated to the three essential elements mentioned above. Modern work thus takes a point of view directly opposed to academic work. Academic work puts the subject first and relegates pictorial values to a secondary level, if there is room.For us others, it is the opposite. Every canvas, even if nonrepresentational, that depends on harmonious relationships of the three forces-color, volume, and line-is a work of art. I repeat, if the object can be included without shattering the governing structure, the canvas is enriched. Sometimes these relationships are merely decorative when they are abstract. But if objects figure in the composition-free objects with a genuine plastic value-pictures result that have as much variety and profundity as any with an imitative subject.
No sketches first, no studies, that’s long past: I do what many dream of all their lives, Dream? strive to do, and agonize to do, And fail in doing. I could count twenty such On twice your fingers, and not leave this town, Who strive - you don’t know how the others striveTo paint a little thing like that you smearedCarelessly passing with your robes afloat, -Yet do much less, so much less, Someone says, (I know his name, no matter) - so much less! Well, less is more, Lucrezia: I am judged.
"On the contrary, art consists of inventing and not copying. The Italian Renaissance is a period of artistic decadence. Those men, devoid of their predecessors' inventiveness, thought they were stronger as imitators-that is false. Art must be free in its inventiveness, it must raise us above too much reality. This is its goal, whether it is poetry or painting. The plastic life, the picture, is made up of harmonious relationships among volumes, lines, and colors. These are the three forces that must govern works of art. If, in organizing these three essential elements harmoniously, one finds that objects, elements of reality, can enter into the composition, it may be better and may give the work more richness. But they must be subordinated to the three essential elements mentioned above. Modern work thus takes a point of view directly opposed to academic work. Academic work puts the subject first and relegates pictorial values to a secondary level, if there is room.For us others, it is the opposite. Every canvas, even if nonrepresentational, that depends on harmonious relationships of the three forces-color, volume, and line-is a work of art. I repeat, if the object can be included without shattering the governing structure, the canvas is enriched. Sometimes these relationships are merely decorative when they are abstract. But if objects figure in the composition-free objects with a genuine plastic value-pictures result that have as much variety and profundity as any with an imitative subject.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Baseball
When I was a small boy growing up in Kansas, a friend of mine and I went fishing and as we sat there in the warmth of a summer afternoon on a riverbank we talked about what we wanted to do when we grew up. I told him that I wanted to be a real major-league baseball player, a genuine professional like Honus Wagner. My friend said that he'd like to be President of the United States. Neither of us got our wish.
"It is more profitable for me to have a team that is in contention for most of the season but finishes about fourth. A team like that will draw well enough during the first part of the season to show a profit for the year, and you don't have to give the players raises when they don't win."
"It is more profitable for me to have a team that is in contention for most of the season but finishes about fourth. A team like that will draw well enough during the first part of the season to show a profit for the year, and you don't have to give the players raises when they don't win."
life
"My grandpa notes the world's worn cogsAnd says we're going to the dogs.His grandpa in his house of logsSaid things were going to the dogs.His grandpa in the Flemish bogsSaid things were going to the dogs.His grandpa in his hairy togsSaid things were going to the dogs.But this is what I wish to state.The dogs have had an awful wait."
WHAT IS LIFE?Life is an Adventure ... Dare itLife is a Beauty ... Praise itLife is a Challenge ... Meet itLife is a Duty ... Perform itLife is a Love ... Enjoy itLife is a Tragedy ... Face itLife is a Struggle ... Fight itLife is a Promise ... Fulfill itLife is a Game ... Play itLife is a Gift ... Accept itLife is a Journey ... Complete itLife is a Mystery ... Unfold itLife is a Goal ... Achieve itLife is an Opportunity ... Take itLife is a Puzzle ... Solve itLife is a Song ... Sing itLife is a Sorrow ... Overcome itLife is a Spirit ... Realize it
There is no Gain in the world: so be it: but neither is there any Loss. There is never any failure to this infinite freshness of life, and the ancient novelty is forever renewed. We realize the world better if we imagine it, not as a Progress to Prim Perfection, but as the sustained upleaping of a Fountain, the pillar of a Glorious Flame. For, after all, we cannot go beyond the ancient image of Heraclitus, the "Ever-living Flame, kindled in due measure and in the like measure extinguished." That translucent and mysterious Flame shines undyingly before our eyes, never for two moments the same, and always miraculously incalculable, an ever-flowing stream of fire. The world is moving, men tell us, to this, to that, to the other. Do not believe them! Men have never known what the world is moving to. Who foresaw--to say nothing of older and vaster events--the Crucifixion? What Greek or Roman in his most fantastic moments prefigured our thirteenth century? What Christian foresaw the Renaissance? Who ever really expected the French Revolution? We cannot be too bold, for we are ever at the incipient point of some new manifestation far more overwhelming than all our dreams. No one can foresee the next aspect of the Fountain of Life. And all the time the Pillar of that Flame is burning at exactly the same height it has always been burning at! The World is everlasting Novelty, everlasting Monotony. It is just which aspect you prefer. You will always be right.
"Nine requisites for contented living: Health enough to make work a pleasure.Wealth enough to support your needs. Strength to battle with difficulties and overcome them. Grace enough to confess your sins and forsake them. Patience enough to toil until some good is accomplished. Charity enough to see some good in your neighbor.Love enough to move you to be useful and helpful to others. Faith enough to make real the things of God. Hope enough to remove all anxious fears concerning the future."
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,Life is but an empty dream!For the soul is dead that slumbers,and things are not what they seem.Life is real! Life is earnest!And the grave is not its goal;Dust thou art; to dust returnest,Was not spoken of the soul.Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,is our destined end or way;But to act, that each tomorrowFind us farther than today.Art is long, and Time is fleeting,And our heats, though stout and brave,Still, like muffled drums, are beatingFuneral marches to the grave.In the world's broad field of battle,In the bivouac of life,Be not like dumb, driven cattle!Be a hero in the strife!Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!Let the dead Past bury its deadAct,- act in the living Present!Heart within, and God o'erhead.Footprints, that perhaps another,Sailing o'er life's solemn main,a forlorn and shipwrecked brother,Seeing, shall take heart again.Let us then be up and doing,with a heart for any fate;Still achieving, still pursuing,Learn to labor and to wait.
I count it happiness,Ere we go quickly thither whence we came,To gaze ungrieving on these majesties,The world-wide sun, the stars, water and clouds,and fire. Live, Parmeno, a hundred yearsOr a few months, these you will always seeand never, never, any greater things.Think of this life-time as a festivalOr visit to a strange city, full of noise,Buying and selling, thieving, dicing stallsAnd joy parks. If you leave it early, friend,Why, think you have gone to find a better inn:You have paid your fare and leave no enemies.
Nay, do not grieve tho' life be full of sadness,Dawn will not veil her spleandor for your grief,Nor spring deny their bright, appointed beautyTo lotus blossom and ashoka leaf.Nay, do not pine, tho' life be dark with trouble,Time will not pause or tarry on his way;To-day that seems so long, so strange, so bitter,Will soon be some forgotten yesterday.Nay, do not weep; new hopes, new dreams, new faces,The unspent joy of all the unborn years,Will prove your heart a traitor to its sorrow,And make your eyes unfaithful to their tears.
Before the beginning of yearsThere came to the making of manTime, with a gift of tears; Grief, with a glass that ran; Pleasure, with pain for leaven; Summer, with flowers that fell; Remembrance, fallen from heaven, And madness risen from hell; Strength without hands to smite; Love that endures for a breath; Night, the shadow of light, And Life, the shadow of death.
A mighty monarch in the days of oldMade offer of high honour, wealth and gold,To one who should produce in form conciseA motto for his guidance, terse yet wise---A precept, soothing in his hours forlorn,Yet one that in his prosperous days would warn.Many the maxims sent the king, men say.The one he chose: "This too shall pass away."Oh, jewel sentence from the mine of truth!What riches it contains for age or youth.No stately epic, measured and sublime,So comforts, or so counsels, for all timeAs these few words. Go write them on your heartAnd make them of your daily life a part.Has some misfortune fallen to your lot?This too will pass away--absorb the thought.And wait; your waiting will not be in vain,Time gilds with gold the iron links of pain.The dark to-day leads into light to-morrow;There is no endless joy, no endless sorrow.Are you upon earth's heights? No cloud in view?Go read your motto once again: This tooShall pass away; fame, glory, place and power,They are but little baubles of the hour,Flung by the ruthless years down in the dust.Take warning and be worthy of God's trust.Use well your prowess while it lasts; leave bloom,Not blight, to mark your footprints to the tomb.The truest greatness lies in being kind,The truest wisdom in a happy mind.He who desponds, his Maker's judgment mocks;The gloomy Christian is a paradox.Only the sunny soul respects its God.Since life is short we need to make it broad;Since life is brief we need to make it bright.Then keep the old king's motto well in sight,And let its meaning permeate each day.Whatever comes, This too shall pass away.
WHAT IS LIFE?Life is an Adventure ... Dare itLife is a Beauty ... Praise itLife is a Challenge ... Meet itLife is a Duty ... Perform itLife is a Love ... Enjoy itLife is a Tragedy ... Face itLife is a Struggle ... Fight itLife is a Promise ... Fulfill itLife is a Game ... Play itLife is a Gift ... Accept itLife is a Journey ... Complete itLife is a Mystery ... Unfold itLife is a Goal ... Achieve itLife is an Opportunity ... Take itLife is a Puzzle ... Solve itLife is a Song ... Sing itLife is a Sorrow ... Overcome itLife is a Spirit ... Realize it
There is no Gain in the world: so be it: but neither is there any Loss. There is never any failure to this infinite freshness of life, and the ancient novelty is forever renewed. We realize the world better if we imagine it, not as a Progress to Prim Perfection, but as the sustained upleaping of a Fountain, the pillar of a Glorious Flame. For, after all, we cannot go beyond the ancient image of Heraclitus, the "Ever-living Flame, kindled in due measure and in the like measure extinguished." That translucent and mysterious Flame shines undyingly before our eyes, never for two moments the same, and always miraculously incalculable, an ever-flowing stream of fire. The world is moving, men tell us, to this, to that, to the other. Do not believe them! Men have never known what the world is moving to. Who foresaw--to say nothing of older and vaster events--the Crucifixion? What Greek or Roman in his most fantastic moments prefigured our thirteenth century? What Christian foresaw the Renaissance? Who ever really expected the French Revolution? We cannot be too bold, for we are ever at the incipient point of some new manifestation far more overwhelming than all our dreams. No one can foresee the next aspect of the Fountain of Life. And all the time the Pillar of that Flame is burning at exactly the same height it has always been burning at! The World is everlasting Novelty, everlasting Monotony. It is just which aspect you prefer. You will always be right.
"Nine requisites for contented living: Health enough to make work a pleasure.Wealth enough to support your needs. Strength to battle with difficulties and overcome them. Grace enough to confess your sins and forsake them. Patience enough to toil until some good is accomplished. Charity enough to see some good in your neighbor.Love enough to move you to be useful and helpful to others. Faith enough to make real the things of God. Hope enough to remove all anxious fears concerning the future."
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,Life is but an empty dream!For the soul is dead that slumbers,and things are not what they seem.Life is real! Life is earnest!And the grave is not its goal;Dust thou art; to dust returnest,Was not spoken of the soul.Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,is our destined end or way;But to act, that each tomorrowFind us farther than today.Art is long, and Time is fleeting,And our heats, though stout and brave,Still, like muffled drums, are beatingFuneral marches to the grave.In the world's broad field of battle,In the bivouac of life,Be not like dumb, driven cattle!Be a hero in the strife!Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!Let the dead Past bury its deadAct,- act in the living Present!Heart within, and God o'erhead.Footprints, that perhaps another,Sailing o'er life's solemn main,a forlorn and shipwrecked brother,Seeing, shall take heart again.Let us then be up and doing,with a heart for any fate;Still achieving, still pursuing,Learn to labor and to wait.
I count it happiness,Ere we go quickly thither whence we came,To gaze ungrieving on these majesties,The world-wide sun, the stars, water and clouds,and fire. Live, Parmeno, a hundred yearsOr a few months, these you will always seeand never, never, any greater things.Think of this life-time as a festivalOr visit to a strange city, full of noise,Buying and selling, thieving, dicing stallsAnd joy parks. If you leave it early, friend,Why, think you have gone to find a better inn:You have paid your fare and leave no enemies.
Nay, do not grieve tho' life be full of sadness,Dawn will not veil her spleandor for your grief,Nor spring deny their bright, appointed beautyTo lotus blossom and ashoka leaf.Nay, do not pine, tho' life be dark with trouble,Time will not pause or tarry on his way;To-day that seems so long, so strange, so bitter,Will soon be some forgotten yesterday.Nay, do not weep; new hopes, new dreams, new faces,The unspent joy of all the unborn years,Will prove your heart a traitor to its sorrow,And make your eyes unfaithful to their tears.
Before the beginning of yearsThere came to the making of manTime, with a gift of tears; Grief, with a glass that ran; Pleasure, with pain for leaven; Summer, with flowers that fell; Remembrance, fallen from heaven, And madness risen from hell; Strength without hands to smite; Love that endures for a breath; Night, the shadow of light, And Life, the shadow of death.
A mighty monarch in the days of oldMade offer of high honour, wealth and gold,To one who should produce in form conciseA motto for his guidance, terse yet wise---A precept, soothing in his hours forlorn,Yet one that in his prosperous days would warn.Many the maxims sent the king, men say.The one he chose: "This too shall pass away."Oh, jewel sentence from the mine of truth!What riches it contains for age or youth.No stately epic, measured and sublime,So comforts, or so counsels, for all timeAs these few words. Go write them on your heartAnd make them of your daily life a part.Has some misfortune fallen to your lot?This too will pass away--absorb the thought.And wait; your waiting will not be in vain,Time gilds with gold the iron links of pain.The dark to-day leads into light to-morrow;There is no endless joy, no endless sorrow.Are you upon earth's heights? No cloud in view?Go read your motto once again: This tooShall pass away; fame, glory, place and power,They are but little baubles of the hour,Flung by the ruthless years down in the dust.Take warning and be worthy of God's trust.Use well your prowess while it lasts; leave bloom,Not blight, to mark your footprints to the tomb.The truest greatness lies in being kind,The truest wisdom in a happy mind.He who desponds, his Maker's judgment mocks;The gloomy Christian is a paradox.Only the sunny soul respects its God.Since life is short we need to make it broad;Since life is brief we need to make it bright.Then keep the old king's motto well in sight,And let its meaning permeate each day.Whatever comes, This too shall pass away.
mother quotes
M-O-T-H-E-R"M" is for the million things she gave me,"O" means only that she's growing old,"T" is for the tears she shed to save me,"H" is for her heart of purest gold;"E" is for her eyes, with love-light shining,"R" means right, and right she'll always be,Put them all together, they spell "MOTHER,"A word that means the world to me.
GOD made a wonderful mother, A mother who never grows old;He made her smile of the sunshine,And He molded her heart of pure gold;In her eyes He placed bright shining stars,In her cheeks, fair roses you see;God made a wonderful mother,And He gave that dear mother to me.
A Mother's love is something that no on can explain,It is made of deep devotionand of sacrifice and pain,It is endless and unselfishand enduring come what mayFor nothing can destroy itor take that love away . . .It is patient and forgivingwhen all others are forsaking,And it never fails or falterseven though the heart is breaking . . .It believes beyond believingwhen the world around condemns,And it glows with all the beautyof the rarest, brightest gems . . .It is far beyond defining,it defies all explanation,And it still remains a secretlike the mysteries of creation . . .A many splendoured miracleman cannot understandAnd another wondrous evidenceof God's tender guiding hand.
A mother's love is like an island In life's ocean vast and wide,A peaceful, quiet shelterFrom the restless, rising tide. A mother's love is like a fortressAnd we seek protection thereWhen the waves of tribulationSeem to drown us in despair. A mother's love is a sanctuaryWhere our soul can find sweet restFrom the struggle and the tensionOf life's fast and futile quest. A mother's love is like a towerRising far above the crowd,And her smile is like the sunshineBreaking through a threatening cloud. A mother's love is like a beaconBurning bright with Faith and PrayerAnd through the changing scenes of lifeWe can find a haven there.... For a mother's love is fashionedAfter God's enduring love,It is endless and unfailingLike the love of Him above. For God knew in His great wisdomThat he couldn't be everywhere,So he put His little ChildrenIn a loving mother's care.
GOD made a wonderful mother, A mother who never grows old;He made her smile of the sunshine,And He molded her heart of pure gold;In her eyes He placed bright shining stars,In her cheeks, fair roses you see;God made a wonderful mother,And He gave that dear mother to me.
A Mother's love is something that no on can explain,It is made of deep devotionand of sacrifice and pain,It is endless and unselfishand enduring come what mayFor nothing can destroy itor take that love away . . .It is patient and forgivingwhen all others are forsaking,And it never fails or falterseven though the heart is breaking . . .It believes beyond believingwhen the world around condemns,And it glows with all the beautyof the rarest, brightest gems . . .It is far beyond defining,it defies all explanation,And it still remains a secretlike the mysteries of creation . . .A many splendoured miracleman cannot understandAnd another wondrous evidenceof God's tender guiding hand.
A mother's love is like an island In life's ocean vast and wide,A peaceful, quiet shelterFrom the restless, rising tide. A mother's love is like a fortressAnd we seek protection thereWhen the waves of tribulationSeem to drown us in despair. A mother's love is a sanctuaryWhere our soul can find sweet restFrom the struggle and the tensionOf life's fast and futile quest. A mother's love is like a towerRising far above the crowd,And her smile is like the sunshineBreaking through a threatening cloud. A mother's love is like a beaconBurning bright with Faith and PrayerAnd through the changing scenes of lifeWe can find a haven there.... For a mother's love is fashionedAfter God's enduring love,It is endless and unfailingLike the love of Him above. For God knew in His great wisdomThat he couldn't be everywhere,So he put His little ChildrenIn a loving mother's care.
love
And, oh, how blessed is it thus to meet! To feel that vanished years have not estranged us, distance has not diminished love, that we are to each other even as we parted; to feel again the fond kiss, to hear once more the accents of a voice which to us has been for years so still,--a voice that brings with it the gush of memory! Past days flit before us; feelings, thoughts, hopes, we deemed were dead, all rise again, summoned by that secret witchery, the well-remembered though long silent voice. Let years, long, lingering, saddening years drag on their chain, let youth have given place to manhood, manhood to age, still will it be the same--the voice we once have loved, and deemed to us for ever still--oh, time, and grief, and blighted hope will be forgotten, and youth, in its undimmed and joyous beauty, its glow of generous feelings, its bright anticipations, all, all again be ours.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of Being and ideal Grace.I love thee to the level of every day'sMost quiet need; by sun and candle-light.I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.I love thee with the passion put to useIn my old griefs, and with my childhood's faithI love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath.Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of Being and ideal Grace.I love thee to the level of every day'sMost quiet need; by sun and candle-light.I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.I love thee with the passion put to useIn my old griefs, and with my childhood's faithI love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath.Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death.
"A relationship is like a rose,How long it lasts, no one knows;Love can erase an awful past,Love can be yours, you'll see at last;To feel that love, it makes you sigh,To have it leave, you'd rather die;You hope you've found that special rose,'Cause you love and care for the one you chose."
Religion it self is nothing else but Love to God and Man.He that lives in Love lives in God, says the Beloved Disciple: And to be sure a Man can live no where better. It is most reasonable Men should value that Benefit, which is most durable. Now Tongues shall cease, and Prophecy fail, and Faith shall be consummated in Sight, and Hope in Enjoyment; but Love remains.Love is indeed Heaven upon Earth; since Heaven above would not be Heaven without it: For where there is not Love; there is Fear: But perfect Love casts out Fear. And yet we naturally fear most to offend what we most Love. What we Love, we’ll Hear; what we Love, we’ll Trust; and what we Love, we’ll serve, ay, and suffer for too. If you love me (says our Blessed Redeemer) keep my Commandments. Why? Why then he’ll Love us; then we shall be his Friends; then he’ll send us the Comforter; then whatsoever we ask, we shall receive; and then where he is we shall be also, and that for ever. Behold the Fruits of Love; the Power, Vertue, Benefit and Beauty of Love! Love is above all; and when it prevails in us all, we shall all be Lovely, and in Love with God and one with another.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of Being and ideal Grace.I love thee to the level of every day'sMost quiet need; by sun and candle-light.I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.I love thee with the passion put to useIn my old griefs, and with my childhood's faithI love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath.Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of Being and ideal Grace.I love thee to the level of every day'sMost quiet need; by sun and candle-light.I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.I love thee with the passion put to useIn my old griefs, and with my childhood's faithI love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath.Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,I shall but love thee better after death.
"A relationship is like a rose,How long it lasts, no one knows;Love can erase an awful past,Love can be yours, you'll see at last;To feel that love, it makes you sigh,To have it leave, you'd rather die;You hope you've found that special rose,'Cause you love and care for the one you chose."
Religion it self is nothing else but Love to God and Man.He that lives in Love lives in God, says the Beloved Disciple: And to be sure a Man can live no where better. It is most reasonable Men should value that Benefit, which is most durable. Now Tongues shall cease, and Prophecy fail, and Faith shall be consummated in Sight, and Hope in Enjoyment; but Love remains.Love is indeed Heaven upon Earth; since Heaven above would not be Heaven without it: For where there is not Love; there is Fear: But perfect Love casts out Fear. And yet we naturally fear most to offend what we most Love. What we Love, we’ll Hear; what we Love, we’ll Trust; and what we Love, we’ll serve, ay, and suffer for too. If you love me (says our Blessed Redeemer) keep my Commandments. Why? Why then he’ll Love us; then we shall be his Friends; then he’ll send us the Comforter; then whatsoever we ask, we shall receive; and then where he is we shall be also, and that for ever. Behold the Fruits of Love; the Power, Vertue, Benefit and Beauty of Love! Love is above all; and when it prevails in us all, we shall all be Lovely, and in Love with God and one with another.
happiness
“The danger of ancient liberty was that men, exclusively concerned with securing their share of social power, might attach too little value to individual rights and enjoyments. The danger of modern liberty is that, absorbed in the enjoyment of our private independence, and in the pursuit of our particular interests, we should surrender our right to share in political power too easily. The holders of authority are only too anxious to encourage us to do so. They are so ready to spare us all sort of troubles, except those of obeying and paying! They will say to us: what, in the end, is the aim of your efforts, the motive of your labours, the object of all your hopes? Is it not happiness? Well, leave this happiness to us and we shall give it to you. No, Sirs, we must not leave it to them. No matter how touching such a tender commitment may be, let us ask the authorities to keep within their limits. Let them confine themselves to being just. We shall assume the responsibility of being happy for ourselves.”
If we want to know what happiness is we must seek it, not as if it were a part of gold at the end of the rainbow, but among human beings who are living richly and fully the good life. If you observe a really happy man you will find him building a boat, writing a symphony, educating his son, growing double Dahlias in his garden. He will not be searching for happiness as if it were a collar gold button that has rolled under the cupboard in his bed room. He will have become aware that he is happy in the course of living 24 crowded hours of the day. If you live only for yourself you are always an immediate danger of being bored to death with the repetition of your own views and interests. No one has learned the meaning of living until he has surrendered his ego to the service of his fellowmen. If your ambition has the momentum of an express train at full speed, if you can no longer stop your mad rush for glory, power, or intellectual supremacy, try to divert your energies into socially useful channels before it is too late.For those who seek the larger happiness and greater effectiveness open to human beings there can be but one philosophy of life, a philosophy of constructive altruism. The truly happy man is always a fighting optimist. Optimism includes not only altruism but also social responsibility, social courage and objectivity. The good life demands a working philosophy as an orientating map of conduct. This is the golden way of life. This is the satisfying life. This is the way to be happy though human.
If we want to know what happiness is we must seek it, not as if it were a part of gold at the end of the rainbow, but among human beings who are living richly and fully the good life. If you observe a really happy man you will find him building a boat, writing a symphony, educating his son, growing double Dahlias in his garden. He will not be searching for happiness as if it were a collar gold button that has rolled under the cupboard in his bed room. He will have become aware that he is happy in the course of living 24 crowded hours of the day. If you live only for yourself you are always an immediate danger of being bored to death with the repetition of your own views and interests. No one has learned the meaning of living until he has surrendered his ego to the service of his fellowmen. If your ambition has the momentum of an express train at full speed, if you can no longer stop your mad rush for glory, power, or intellectual supremacy, try to divert your energies into socially useful channels before it is too late.For those who seek the larger happiness and greater effectiveness open to human beings there can be but one philosophy of life, a philosophy of constructive altruism. The truly happy man is always a fighting optimist. Optimism includes not only altruism but also social responsibility, social courage and objectivity. The good life demands a working philosophy as an orientating map of conduct. This is the golden way of life. This is the satisfying life. This is the way to be happy though human.
dreams
Even interpretations based on depth-psychological dream theories often meet with some success; this despite the fact that their assumptions are purely speculative, while conclusions drawn from those assumptions, such as the posited relationship between "latent" and "manifest" dream contents, have no basis in fact.Experience teaches, by the way, that patients who assume a observer's stance while dreaming, distancing themselves from active participation with others, require especially stubborn, persistent therapists.Positive declarations of what something "means" tend to force the therapist into the role of authority figure, at the same time thrusting the patient into subordinate, infantile behavior.Both Freud's original "depth-psychological" dream theory and all others that have imitated it in defining dreams as attempts at self-deception inevitably end up in a series of logical impasses...Notwithstanding the immense expenditure of theoretical labor in past decades, today - three-quarters of a century later - critical opinion is increasingly eroding depth-psychological theories of dream interpretation. The most skeptical of these critics come from the ranks of the analysts themselves.Because the natural scientific approach from which all depth-psychological dream theories spring is gradually relinquishing its absolute hold on the human imagination, in the future more and more patients will refuse to pass blindly over the inconsistencies hidden in traditional dream theories. Increasingly, they will defend themselves against depth-psychological dream interpretation...The dream reinterpretations posited by depth-psychological theories are not just theoretically untenable; they also prohibit the therapist from gaining the understanding of the dreaming he needs if he is to help the patient.
I wept in my dreams. I dreamed you lay in the grave;I awoke, and the tearsstill poured down my cheeks.I wept in my dreams,I dreamed you had left me;I awoke and I went on weeping long and bitterly.I wept in my dreams,I dreamed you were still kind to me;I awoke, and stillthe flow of my tears streams on.
You make your own dream. That's the Beatles' story, isn't it? That's Yoko's story. That's what I'm saying now. Produce your own dream. If you want to save Peru, go save Peru. It's quite possible to do anything, but not to put it on the leaders and the parking meters. Don't expect Jimmy Carter or Ronald Reagan or John Lennon or Yoko Ono or Bob Dylan or Jesus Christ to come and do it for you. You have to do it yourself. That's what the great masters and mistresses have been saying ever since time began. They can point the way, leave signposts and little instructions in various books that are now called holy and worshipped for the cover of the book and not for what it says, but the instructions are all there for all to see, have always been and always will be. There's nothing new under the sun. All the roads lead to Rome. And people cannot provide it for you. I can't wake you up. You can wake you up. I can't cure you. You can cure you.
"Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now,Thus much let me avow--You are not wrong who deemThat my days have been a dream;Yet if hope has flown awayIn a night, or in a day,In a vision, or in none,Is it therefore the less gone?All that we see or seemIs but a dream within a dream."
In the one instance, the dreamer, or enthusiast, being interested by an object usually not frivolous, imperceptibly loses sight of this object in a wilderness of deductions and suggestions issuing therefrom, until, at the conclusion of a day dream often replete with luxury, he finds the incitamentum, or first cause of his musings, utterly vanished and forgotten. In my case, the primary object was invariably frivolous, although assuming, through the medium of my distempered vision, a refracted and unreal importance. Few deductions, if any, were made; and those few pertinaciously returning in, so to speak, upon the original object as a centre. The meditations were never pleasurable; and, at the termination of the reverie, the first cause, so far from being out of sight, had attained that supernaturally exaggerated interest which was the prevailing feature of the disease. In a word, the powers of mind more particularly exercised were, with me, as I have said before, the attentive, and are, with the day-dreamer, the speculative.
When the mind has a tendency to dream, it is a mistake to keep dreams away from it, to ration its dreams. So long as you distract your mind from its dreams, it will not know them for what they are; you will always be being taken in by the appearance of things, because you will not have grasped their true nature. If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time. One must have a thorough understanding of one’s dreams if one is not to be troubled by them; there is a way of separating one’s dreams from one’s life which so often produces good results that I ask myself whether one ought not, at all costs, to try it, simply as a preventive, just as certain surgeons make out that we ought, to avoid the risk of appendicitis later on, to have all our appendices taken out when we are children.
I wept in my dreams. I dreamed you lay in the grave;I awoke, and the tearsstill poured down my cheeks.I wept in my dreams,I dreamed you had left me;I awoke and I went on weeping long and bitterly.I wept in my dreams,I dreamed you were still kind to me;I awoke, and stillthe flow of my tears streams on.
You make your own dream. That's the Beatles' story, isn't it? That's Yoko's story. That's what I'm saying now. Produce your own dream. If you want to save Peru, go save Peru. It's quite possible to do anything, but not to put it on the leaders and the parking meters. Don't expect Jimmy Carter or Ronald Reagan or John Lennon or Yoko Ono or Bob Dylan or Jesus Christ to come and do it for you. You have to do it yourself. That's what the great masters and mistresses have been saying ever since time began. They can point the way, leave signposts and little instructions in various books that are now called holy and worshipped for the cover of the book and not for what it says, but the instructions are all there for all to see, have always been and always will be. There's nothing new under the sun. All the roads lead to Rome. And people cannot provide it for you. I can't wake you up. You can wake you up. I can't cure you. You can cure you.
"Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now,Thus much let me avow--You are not wrong who deemThat my days have been a dream;Yet if hope has flown awayIn a night, or in a day,In a vision, or in none,Is it therefore the less gone?All that we see or seemIs but a dream within a dream."
In the one instance, the dreamer, or enthusiast, being interested by an object usually not frivolous, imperceptibly loses sight of this object in a wilderness of deductions and suggestions issuing therefrom, until, at the conclusion of a day dream often replete with luxury, he finds the incitamentum, or first cause of his musings, utterly vanished and forgotten. In my case, the primary object was invariably frivolous, although assuming, through the medium of my distempered vision, a refracted and unreal importance. Few deductions, if any, were made; and those few pertinaciously returning in, so to speak, upon the original object as a centre. The meditations were never pleasurable; and, at the termination of the reverie, the first cause, so far from being out of sight, had attained that supernaturally exaggerated interest which was the prevailing feature of the disease. In a word, the powers of mind more particularly exercised were, with me, as I have said before, the attentive, and are, with the day-dreamer, the speculative.
When the mind has a tendency to dream, it is a mistake to keep dreams away from it, to ration its dreams. So long as you distract your mind from its dreams, it will not know them for what they are; you will always be being taken in by the appearance of things, because you will not have grasped their true nature. If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less but to dream more, to dream all the time. One must have a thorough understanding of one’s dreams if one is not to be troubled by them; there is a way of separating one’s dreams from one’s life which so often produces good results that I ask myself whether one ought not, at all costs, to try it, simply as a preventive, just as certain surgeons make out that we ought, to avoid the risk of appendicitis later on, to have all our appendices taken out when we are children.
friendship
There’s a miracle of friendship that dwells within the heartAnd you don’t know how it happens or where it gets its startBut the happiness it brings you always gives a special liftAny you realize that friendshipIs God’s most perfect gift
O friend, my bosom said,Through thee alone the sky is arched.Through thee the rose is red;All things through thee take nobler form,And look beyond the earth,The mill-round of our fate appearsA sun-path in thy worth.Me too thy nobleness has taughtTo master my despair;The fountains of my hidden lifeAre through thy friendship fair.
We have been friends together,In sunshine and in shade;Since first beneath the chestnut-treesIn infancy we played.But coldness dwells within thy heart,A cloud is on thy brow;We have been friends together—Shall a light word part us now?......We have been sad together,We have wept, with bitter tears,O’er the grass-grown graves, where slumber’dThe hopes of early years.The voices which are silent thereWould bid thee clear thy brow;We have been sad together—Oh! what shall part us now?
The friends I made have slipped and strayed. And who's the one that cares A trifling lot and best forgot - And that's my tale, and theirs. Then if my 'friendships break and bend There's little need to cry The while I know that every foe Is faithful till I die.'
O friend, my bosom said,Through thee alone the sky is arched.Through thee the rose is red;All things through thee take nobler form,And look beyond the earth,The mill-round of our fate appearsA sun-path in thy worth.Me too thy nobleness has taughtTo master my despair;The fountains of my hidden lifeAre through thy friendship fair.
We have been friends together,In sunshine and in shade;Since first beneath the chestnut-treesIn infancy we played.But coldness dwells within thy heart,A cloud is on thy brow;We have been friends together—Shall a light word part us now?......We have been sad together,We have wept, with bitter tears,O’er the grass-grown graves, where slumber’dThe hopes of early years.The voices which are silent thereWould bid thee clear thy brow;We have been sad together—Oh! what shall part us now?
The friends I made have slipped and strayed. And who's the one that cares A trifling lot and best forgot - And that's my tale, and theirs. Then if my 'friendships break and bend There's little need to cry The while I know that every foe Is faithful till I die.'
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