ThursdayApr 25, 2024
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
Ah, great it is to believe the dream As we stand in youth by the starry stream; But a greater thing is to fight lifes battles through, And say at the end, 'The dream is true!'
We are all blind until we see That in the human plan Nothing is worth the making If it does not make the man. Why build these cities glorious If man unbuilded goes? We build the world in vain Unless the builders also grow.
For all your days prepare And meet them ever alike; When you are the anvil, bear When you are the hammer, strike.
Yes, take a little time to play And look at life the other way. God rested when the world was made: Rest now, old friend; be not afraid. But think not that your work is over, That you are now a foot-free rover, A rambler upon idle ways, Whittling away the golden days. For in the road climb to the goal Theres no long furlough for a soul. Theres no long pause: on every height Another summit swims in sight. The long road rises, scene by scene, With little restings in between. And so I say that every end Is only an unexpected bend In eternal road we go To peaks above from peaks below. The yesterdays are shells we shed: The best is always on ahead. Theres always some new world for winning; And every end is a new beginning!
Here is the Truth in a little creed, Enough for all the roads we go: In Love is all the law we need, In Christ is all the God we know.
He drew a circle that shut me out Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. But love and I had the wit to win; We drew a circle that took him in!
And when he fell in whirlwind, he went down As when a lordly cedar, green with boughs, Goes down with a great shout upon the hills, And leaves a lonesome place against the sky.
By a divine paradox, wherever there is one slave there are two. So in the wonderful reciprocities of being, we can never reach the higher levels until all our fellows ascend with us. There is no true liberty for the individual except as he finds it in the liberty of all. There is no true security for the individual except as he finds it in the security of all.
Only the soul that knows the mighty grief can know the mighty rapture. Sorrows come to stretch out spaces in the heart for joy.
We have committed the Golden Rule to memory. Let us now commit it to life.
No soul can be forever banned, Eternally bereft, Whoever falls from Gods right hand Is caught into his left.
When in the dim beginning of the years, God mixed in man the raptures and the tears, And scattered through his brain that starry stuff, He said: 'Behold! Yet this is not enough; For I must test his spirit to make sure That he can dare the vision and endure. I will withdraw my face, Veil me in shadow for a certain space, Leaving behind me only a broken clue- A crevice where the glory glimmers through, Some whisper from the sky, Some footprint in the road to track me by. I will leave man to make the fateful guess, To leave him torn between the no and yes, Leave him unresting 'til he rest in me, Drawn upward by the choice that makes him free- Leave him in tragic loneliness to choose, With all in life to win or to lose.
Earth Is Enough. We men of Earth have here the stuff Of Paradise we have enough! We need no other stones to build The Temple of the Unfulfilled No other ivory for the doors No other marble for the floors No other cedar for the beam And dome of man's immortal dream. Here on the paths of everyday Here on the common human way Is all the stuff the gods would take To build a Heaven, to mold and make New Edens. Ours is the stuff sublime To build Eternity in time!
Defeat may serve as well as victory To shake the soul and let the glory out. When the great oak is straining in the wind, The boughs drink in new beauty and the trunk Sends down a deeper root on the windward side. Only the soul that knows the mighty grief Can know the mighty rapture, Sorrows come To stretch out spaces in the heart for joy.
At the heart of the cyclone tearing the sky And flinging the cloud and the towers by, Is a place of central calm: So here in the roar of mortal things, I have a place where my spirit sings, In the hollow of Gods Palm.
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes at the ground, The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world.
In vain we build the city if we do not first build the man.
There is a destiny that makes us brothers: None goes his way alone: All that we send into the lives of others Comes back unto our own.
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