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Be careful what rubbish you toss in the tide. On outgoing billows it drifts from your sight, But back on the incoming waves it may ride And land at your threshold again before night. Be careful what rubbish you toss in the tide.
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Always continue the climb. It is possible for you to do whatever you choose, if you first get to know who you are and are willing to work with a power that is greater than ourselves to do it.
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I was as pure as the morning When I first looked on your face; I knew I never could reach you In your high, exalted place.
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Day's sweetest moments are at dawn.
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Oh! not for the great departed, Who formed our country's laws, And not for the bravest-hearted, Who died in freedom's cause, And not for some living hero To whom all bend the knee, My muse would raise her song of praise - But for the man to be.
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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.
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You are your own devil, you are your own God, You fashioned the paths that your footsteps have trod, And no one can save you from error or sin, Until you shall hark to the Spirit within.
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The man who radiates good cheer, who makes life happier wherever he meets it, is always a man of vision and faith.
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Life is too short for aught but high endeavor.
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Back on its golden hinges The gate of Memory swings, And my heart goes into the garden And walks with the olden things.
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I think of death as some delightful journey that I shall take when all my tasks are done.
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How does Love speak? In the faint flush upon the telltale cheek, And in the pallor that succeeds it; by The quivering lid of an averted eye – The smile that proves the parent to a sigh Thus doth Love speak.
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All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon the sand.
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Give us that grand word 'woman' once again, and let's have done with 'lady'; one's a term full of fine force, strong, beautiful, and firm, fit for the noblest use of tongue or pen; and one's a word for lackeys.
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What can be said in New Year rhymes, That's not been said a thousand times? The new years come, the old years go, We know we dream, we dream we know. We rise up laughing with the light, We lie down weeping with the night. We hug the world until it stings, We curse it then and sigh for wings. We live, we love, we woo, we wed, We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead. We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear, And that's the burden of a year.
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Body and mind, and spirit, all combineTo make the Creature, human and divine.Of this great trinity no part deny.Affirm, affirm, the Great Eternal I.
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It is easy enough to be virtuous When nothing tempts you to stray; When without or within No voice of sin Is luring your soul away. But it is only a negative virtue until it is tried by fire. For the soul that is worth the treasures of the earth is the soul that resists desire.
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Mourn not for the vanished ages with their grand, heroic men, who dwell in history's pages and live in the poets pen for the grandest times are before us and the world is yet to see the noblest work of this old earth in the men that are to be.
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I will not doubt, though sorrows fall like rain, And troubles swarm like bees about a hive; I shall believe the heights for which I strive Are only reached by anguish and by pain; And though I groan and tremble with my crosses, I yet shall see, through my severest losses, The greater gain.
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A weed is but an unloved flower.
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Why dost thou shrink from my approach, O Man? Why dost thou ever flee in fear, and cling To my false rival, Life? I do but bring Thee rest and calm. Then wherefore dost thou ban And curse me? Since the forming of God's plan I have not hurt or harmed a mortal thing, I have bestowed sweet balm for every sting, And peace eternal for earth's stormy span.
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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, Nor seek to summon back one ghost Of that innumerable host. Concern yourself with but today; Woo it and teach it to obey Your wish and will. Since time began Today has been the friend of man. But in his blindness and his sorrow He looks to yesterday and tomorrow.
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One ship drives east and other drives west by the same winds that blow. It's the set of the sails and not the gales that determines the way they go.
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The sin and the shame and the sorrow, The crime and the want and the woe That are born there in your workshop, No hand can paint, you know.