TuesdayApr 16, 2024
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
The subject of the poem was Bridget of Kildare (450523), a Christian lass among the Druids in Ireland. Saint Bridget was A problem child. Although a lass Demure and mild, And one who strove To please her dad, Saint Bridget drove The family mad. For here'
Meek-eyed parents hasten down the ramps To greet their offspring, terrible from camps.
Compromise, if not the spice of life, is its solidity. It is what makes nations great and marriages happy.
Sticks and stones are hard on bones, aimed with angry art, words can sting like anything but silence breaks the heart.
God knows that a mother needs fortitude and courage and tolerance and flexibility and patience and firmness and nearly every other brave aspect of the human soul. But because I happen to be a parent of almost fiercely maternal nature, I praise casualness. It seems to me the rarest of virtues.
Praise is warming and desirable ... what the human race lives on like bread. But praise is an earned thing. It has to be deserved like an honorary degree or a hug from a child. A compliment is manna, a free gift.
The story tells us, too, That if you cut a pine cone part way through, You find it bears within it like a brand The imprint of His hand.
The trouble with gardening is that is does not remain an avocation. It becomes an obsession.
Men can't be trusted with pruning shears any more than they can be trusted with the grocery money in a delicatessen ... They are like boys with new pocket knives who will not stop whittling.
Gardening has compensations out of all proportions to its goals. It is creation in the pure sense.
A hobby a day keeps the doldrums away.
The trouble with gardening is that it does not remain an avocation. It becomes an obsession.
Getting along with men isn't what's truly important. The vital knowledge is how to get along with one man.
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