Work for your own soul's sake.
To put meaning in one's life may end in madness, But life without meaning is the torture Of restlessness and vague desire-It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.
To love is to find your own soul Through the soul of the beloved one.
In time you shall see Fate approach you In the shape of your own image in the mirror.
The tongue may be an unruly member-- But silence poisons the soul.
I have known the silence of the stars and of the sea. And the silence of the city when it pauses, And the silence of a man and a maid, And the silence for which music alone finds the word.
How shall the soul of a man be larger than the life he has lived?
Immortality is not a gift, Immortality is an achievement; And only those who strive mightily Shall possess it.
It takes life to love life.
To this generation I would say: Memorize some bit of verse of truth or beauty.
There is the silence of age, too full of wisdom for the tongue to utter it in words intelligible to those who have not lived the great range of life.
Beware of the man who rises to power from one suspender.
Did I follow Truth wherever she led, And stand against the whole world for a cause, And uphold the weak against the strong? If I did I would be remembered among men.
The snows and the roses of yesterday are vanished; And what is love but a rose that fades?
the much-sought prize of eternal youth Is just arrested growth.
Genius is a bend in the creek where bright water has gathered, and which mirrors the trees, the sky and the banks. It just does that because it is there and the scenery is there. Talent is a fine mirror with a silver frame, with the name of the owner engraved on the back.
Those who first oppose a good work, seize it and make it their own, when the cornerstone is laid and memorial tablets are erected.
The mind sees the world as a thing apart, And the soul makes the world at one with itself. A mirror scratched reflects no image— And this is the silence of wisdom.
And I never started to plow in my life That some one did not stop in the road And take me away to a dance or picnic. I ended up with forty acres; I ended up with a broken fiddle— And a broken laugh, and a thousand memories, And not a single regret.
What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness, Anger, discontent and drooping hopes? Degenerate sons and daughters, Life is too strong for you— It takes life to love Life.
There is no marriage in Heaven, but there is love.
A giant as we hoped, in truth, a dwarf; A barrel of slop that shines on Lethe's wharf', Which at first seemed a vessel with sweet wine For thirsty lips. So down the swift decline You went through sloven spirit, craven heart And cynic indolence. And here the art Of molding clay has caught you for the nonce And made your shame our shame ~ Your head in bronze!
In time you shall see Fate approach youIn the shape of your own image in the mirror;Or you shall sit alone by your own hearth,And suddenly the chair by you shall hold a guest,And you shall know that guest,And read the authentic message of his eyes.
The earth keeps some vibration going There in your heart, and that is you. And if the people find you can fiddle, why fiddle you must, for all your life.
O maternal earth which rocks the fallen leaf to sleep!
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