Use soft words and hard arguments.
A tongue has no bones but it is strong enough to break a heart. Be careful with your words.
If you can make music with someone you don’t need words.
Children who hear acquire language without any particular effort; the words that fall from others’ lips they catch on the wing, as it were, delightedly, while the little deaf child must trap them by a slow and often painful process. But whatever the process, the result is wonderful. Gradually from naming an object we advance step by step until we have traversed the vast distance between our first stammered syllable and the sweep of thought in a line of Shakespeare. Helen Keller, The Story of My Life 1903
Your beliefs become your thoughts, your thoughts become your words, your words become your actions, your actions become your habits, your habits become your values, your values become your destiny. Mahatma Ghandi
Words driving hard into the glass only hurt if the window is open. Michelle Szafer
In three words I can sum up everything about life, “it goes on!” Robert Lee Frost
I’m going out! I’m tired of tables, chairs:
I’m tired of walls that hedge me all about;
I’m tired of rooms and ceilings, carpets, stairs,
And so – I’m going out!
Somehow or other what I need today
Are skies, and birds that carol,
Winds that shout!
I want Dame Nature’s friendship.
Thus I say,
“Good-bye. I’m going out!”
It’s just house-tiredness. Trivial humdrum strain!
Monotony! But when I’ve climbed the hill,
My heart, refreshed, will laugh and sing again,
Dear home! I’ll love it still!
~ Ian Drag ~
I lift my cap to Beauty,
I lift my cap to Love;
I bow before my Duty,
And know that God’s above!
My heart through shining arches
Of leaf and blossom goes;
My soul, triumphant, marches
Through life to life’s repose.
And I, through all this glory,
Nor know, nor fear my fate—
The great things are so simple,
The simple are so great!
~ Fred G. Bowles ~
To all who hope for Freedom’s gleam
Across the warring years,
Who offer life to build a dream
In laughter or in tears,
To all who toil, unmarked, unknown,
By city, field or sea,
I give my heart, I reach my hand,
A common hope, a common land
Is made of you and me.
For we have loved her summer dawns
Beyond the misty hill,
And we have shared her toil, her fruit
Of farm and shop and mill.
Our weaknesses have made her shame,
Our strength has built her powers,
And we have hoped and we have striven
That to her children might be given
A fairer world than ours.
We dreamed to hold her safe, apart
From strife; the dream was vain.
Her heart is now earth’s bleeding heart,
She shares the whole earth’s pain.
To men oppressed in all the lands
One flashing hope has gone,
One vision wide as earth appears,
We seek, across the warring years,
The gray world’s golden dawn.
~Anna Louise Strong~
I am a man who knew Abe Lincoln well;
We logged together on the Sangamon.
Abe was a thinker then, we noticed that;
Noticed the way he used to go apart
And watch the sunset flush the western sky
Until the river seemed a thing of flame.
Abe would sit there, a little off from us,
The soft wind blowing his unruly locks,
His face alight with deep, unspoken dreams.
It was as if he visioned the long way
His great, gaunt frame would one day have to go;
As if he heard the distant roar of war.
I have seen tears start in Abe Lincoln’s eyes
And run unheeded down his wind-bronzed cheeks
Even as long ago as those old days
When we were logging on the Sangamon.
After the day’s hard work we would sit there,
Lost in the wild, still beauty of the place;
(I can recall the smell of early spring
That settled on the river after dark);
Would sit and watch the stars come slowly out
And hear the water lap against our boat
And lose ourselves in quietness and sleep.
But Lincoln would sit on, deep in his thoughts,
One day we saw a slave sold on the bank:
That night Abe Lincoln’s heavy brows were knit
In troubled thought. That night
He did not close his brooding eyes,
But sat there thinking till the morning sun
Turned the pale sky into a flood of light.
Today, when I stood there at Gettysburg,
And saw that figure that I knew and loved
Take its quiet place—
How can I put in words
The thoughts that surged so swiftly through my heart?
This was the man I knew so well and long—
This man who spoke such simple, tender words—
Truths that would root and grow and bear much fruit!
Somehow, when he had finished, I ran forth
And caught his great hand close within my own:
“Abe!” I cried, huskily. “You know me, Abe?”
There, in the great crowd, he leaned on my arm.
Tears of delight were on his homely face.
“It is as if,” he told me, brokenly,
“The years of war and horror were wiped out
And we were on the Sangamon again.
My heart has hungered after you, my friend.”
That was Abe Lincoln, friend of all the world.
~Eleanor G. R. Young~
This quotation is so good it deserves a post all to itself…
Tact is the ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip. Winston Churchill
“Here is my heart; it’s clean.
I give it, Lord, to Thee.”
And then I saw God plainly
Turn aside from me.
“I do not want your heart,
Closed tightly to other men.
Open it up, my child,
And return it to me again.”
Sometimes, when the grind of the city beats on my heart
Like a brazen hammer with terrible blows,
I think of a lost garden I knew in my boyhood,
Filled with the scent of the rose.
And sometimes, when the clamor of life seems endless,
And my soul is bowed with its weight of pain,
I think of an old, still apple tree in blossom
At the end of a hawthorn lane.
Oh, do not smile at such simple memories!
They keep us young, they keep the man-heart right.
And sometime we will all go back contented,
To a Garden and a Tree in a place of light.
~Charles Hanson Towne~
I am tired of city sounds,
And streets of questing faces—
Give me, for a swift, sweet hour,
Little lonely places!
Though I want the city ere
This golden silence passes,
I have loved and looked upon
Sky—and hills—and grasses.
I have walked with God again
In little lonely places …
I shall find His face again
In streets of questing faces!