ThursdayNov 21, 2024
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
Ella Wheeler Wilcox (November 5, 1850 - October 30, 1919) was an American author and poet. Her best-known work was Poems of Passion , and her autobiography, The Worlds and I was published in 1918 shortly before her death.
A pat on the back is only a few vertebrae removed from a kick in the pants, but is miles ahead in results.
Better than glory, or honors, or fame, (Though I am striving for those to-day) To know that some heart will cherish my name, And think of me kindly, with blessings, alway.
Come, cuddle your head on my shoulder, dear, Your head like the golden-rod, And we will go sailing away from here To the beautiful land of Nod.
A weed is but an unloved flower.
I know there are no errors, In the great Eternal plan.
With every deed you are sowing a seed, though the harvest you may not see.
Tis easy enough to be pleasant When life flows along like a song, But the man worthwhile is the man who will smile When everything goes dead wrong.
There is new strength, repose of mind, and inspiration in fresh apparel.
Lean on thyself until thy strength is tried; Then ask Gods help; it will not be denied. Use thine own sight to see the way to go; When darkness falls ask God the path to show. Think for thyself and reason out thy plan; God has His work and thou hast thine. Exert thy will and use for self-control; God gave thee jurisdiction of thy soul. All thine immortal powers bring into play; Think, act, strive, reason, and look up and pray.
With care, and skill, and cunning art, She parried Time's malicious dart, And kept the years at bay, Till passion entered in her heart And aged her in a day!
With every rising of the sun, Think of your life as just begun. The past has shrived and buried deep All yesterdays; there let them sleep. Concern yourself with but today, Woo it, and teach it to obey Your will and wish. Since time began Today has been the friend of man; But in his blindness and his sorrow, He looks to yesterday and tomorrow. You, and today! a soul sublime, And the great pregnant hour of time, With God himself to bind the twain! Go forth, I sayattain, attain! With God himself to bind the twain!
And so for me there is no sting of death, And so the grave has lost its victory. It is but crossingwith abated breath And white, set facea little strip of sea To find the loved ones waiting on the shore, More beautiful, more precious than before.
The man who radiates good cheer, who makes life happier wherever he meets it, is always a man of vision and faith.
All love that has not friendship for its base, Is like a mansion built upon the sand.
It has ever been since time began, And ever will be, till time lose breath, That love is a mood no more to man, And love to a woman is life or death.
So many gods, so many creeds, So many paths that wind and wind, While just the art of being kind Is all the sad world needs.
Talk happiness. The world is sad enough without your woe. No path is wholly rough.
The truest greatness lies in being kind, the truest wisdom in a happy mind.
One ship drives east, and another west With the self-same winds that blow: Tis the set of the sails And not the gales, Which decides the way we go. Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate, As they voyage along through life; Tis the will of the soul That decides its goal, And not the calm or the strife.
There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, That can circumvent or hinder or control The firm resolve of a determined soul.
We flatter those we scarcely know, We please the fleeting guest, And deal full many a thoughtless blow To those who love us best.
Feast, and your halls are crowded; Fast, and the world goes by.
The splendid discontent of God With chaos made the world.
And from the discontent of man The worlds best progress springs.
All those who journey, soon or late, Must pass within the garden's gate; Must kneel alone in darkness there, And battle with some fierce despair. God pity those who cannot say: 'Not mine but thine'; who only pray: 'Let this cup pass,' and cannot see The purpose in Gethsemane. All paths which have been or must be, Must pass through Gethsemane. All those who journey, soon or late, Must pass somewhere through the garden's gate. Must kneel alone in darkness there, And deal with some fierce despair. God pity those who cannot say, 'Not mine, but shine,' who only pray 'Let this cup pass,' and cannot see The purpose of Gethsemane.
No question is ever settled Until it is settled right.
Laugh and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.
The splendid discontent of God With chaos, made the world... And from the discontent of man The world's best progress springs.
Laugh and the world laughs with you, Weep and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.
So many gods, so many creeds, So many paths that wind and wind.
For an actress to be a success, she must have the face of Venus, the brains of a Minerva, the grace of Terpsichore, the memory of a Macaulay, the figure of Juno, and the hide of a rhinoceros.
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