I am not in a bad mood. Everyone is just. . annoying.
Write verse, not poetry. The public wants verse. If you have a talent for poetry, then don't by any means mother it, but try your hand at verse.
Be master of your petty annoyances and conserve your energies for the big, worthwhile things. It isn't the mountain ahead that wears you out - it's the grain of sand in your shoe.
Our breath is brief, and being so Let's make our heaven here below, And lavish kindness as we go.
It isn't the mountain ahead that wears you out; it's the grain of sand in your shoe.
There's a race of men that don't fit in, A race that can't sit still; So they break the hearts of kith and kin, And they roam the world at will. They range the field and rove the flood, And they climb the mountain's crest; Their's is the curse of the gypsy blood, And they don't know how to rest.
The trails of the world be countless, and most of the trails be tried; You tread on the heels of the many, till you come where the ways divide;And one lies safe in the sunlight, and the other is dreary and wan,But you look aslant at the Lone Trail, and the Lone Trail lures you on.
Living is more a question of what one spends than what one makes.
Sometime in the eighties, Americans had a new set of 'traditional values' installed. . . . the poor and the middle class were shaken down, and their loose change funneled blithely upwards to the already overfed.
There are three things you cannot hide: smell of the garlic, fragrance of the flower and the wisdom of the teacher.
Death is only passing through God's other door.