| Poetry, Prose and Pretty Words |
| High Flight by John Gillespie Magee, Jr. Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth Of sun-split clouds, -- and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of -- wheeled and soared and swung High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there, I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung My eager craft through footless halls of air. . . . Up, up the long, delirious burning blue I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace Where never lark, or ever eagle flew -- And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod The high untrespassed sanctity of space, Put out my hand, and touched the face of God. |
| Invictus William Ernest Henley. 1849–1903 Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul. |
| Turn! Turn! Turn! The Byrds To everything, turn, turn, turn. There is a season, turn, turn, turn. And a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to be born, a time to die. A time to plant, a time to reap. A time to kill, a time to heal. A time to laugh, a time to weep. To everything, turn, turn, turn. There is a season, turn, turn, turn. And a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to build up, a time to break down. A time to dance, a time to mourn. A time to cast away stones. A time to gather stones together. To everything, turn, turn, turn. There is a season, turn, turn, turn. And a time to every purpose under heaven. A time of love, a time of hate. A time of war, a time of peace. A time you may embrace. A time to refrain from embracing. To everything, turn, turn, turn. There is a season, turn, turn, turn. And a time to every purpose under heaven. A time to gain, a time to lose. A time to rend, a time to sow. A time for love, a time for hate. A time for peace, I swear it's not too late. |
| Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village, though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there's some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. |
| The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!"” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” Inscribed on the Statue of Liberty |
| Images The years go by on windswept days, to rest another place, With them slip bits of me, Gently, without a trace. My memories are fleeting, On gossamer wings they fly, With age, holding to them - is difficult to try. As I consider the days ahead, or years, if that be true, and wonder how I will survive without my memories of you... If I cannot hold them fast, then images will do, if that is all I have so that I remember you... |
| Blessed is he who has learned to laugh at himself, for he shall never cease to be entertained. John Powell |
| ROAD LESS TRAVELED Two roads diverged in a yellow wood And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth Then took the other as just as fair And having perhaps the better claim Because it was grassy and wanted wear Though as for that, the passing there Had worn them really about the same And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet, knowing how way leads onto way I doubted if I should ever come back I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence Two roads diverged in a wood And I took the one less traveled by And that has made all the difference Robert Frost |
| I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands: one Nation indivisible, With Liberty and Justice for all. June 14, 1924 |
| Thou shall not disfigure the soul. Frank Herbert |
| Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. The Golden Rule |
| My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness. The Dalai Lama |
| Never lose a chance of saying a kind word. - William Makepeace Thackeray, British Writer |
| May you live all the days of your life. - Jonathan Swift |
| It is not length of life, but depth of life. Ralph Waldo Emerson |
| He who has hope has everything. Arabian Proverb |
| "I'll close my eyes then I won't see the love you don't feel when you're holding me Morning will come and I'll do what's right Just give me till then to give up this fight and I will give up this fight Cause I can't make you love me if you don't You can't make your heart feel something it won't Here in the dark in these final hours I will lay down my heart and I'll feel the power But you won't - No, you won't Cause I can't make you love me if you don't" From "I Can't Make You Love Me" by Bonnie Raitt |
| No fate is worse than a life without a love. Mexican Proverb |
| I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident; that all men are created equal.” - Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. |
| You have not lived until you have done something for someone who can never repay you. Anonymous |
| America the Beautiful - 1913 Katharine Lee Bates O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed his grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea! O beautiful for pilgrim feet Whose stern, impassioned stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness! America! America! God mend thine every flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law! O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife. Who more than self the country loved And mercy more than life! America! America! May God thy gold refine Till all success be nobleness And every gain divine! O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed his grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea! O beautiful for halcyon skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the enameled plain! America! America! God shed his grace on thee Till souls wax fair as earth and air And music-hearted sea! O beautiful for pilgrims feet, Whose stern impassioned stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness! America ! America ! God shed his grace on thee Till paths be wrought through wilds of thought By pilgrim foot and knee! O beautiful for glory-tale Of liberating strife When once and twice, for man's avail Men lavished precious life ! America! America! God shed his grace on thee Till selfish gain no longer stain The banner of the free! O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed his grace on thee Till nobler men keep once again Thy whiter jubilee! |
| The Winter of My Life In the spring of my life I dreamt the dreams of youth, hoped the hopes of the young and wished the wishes of one who was sure that life was long and all things were possible with those dreams, hopes, wishes, a lot of hard work and a little bit of luck. As it so often happens none came to pass, the dreams went unfulfilled, the hopes were lost to reality and the wishes were unanswered. Luck, luck was for the lucky, I was not lucky. The hard work, that came, year in, year out. To no avail, the dreams of my youth went as they sometimes do, to my fading memory or relegated to dusty photo albums in our attic. In the winter of my life I have left those dreams and wishes to the young, content to accept my fate, facing the road before me with a solitary heart and a tired mind. I did my best, it wasn't enough. I have turned my thoughts instead to what awaits me. If there is life, some kind of existence after this, I cannot help but hope that in it I might find a better place, one without sadness and pain, want or longing. A place where all I have loved and lost will be there to greet me. That the skies be blue and grass green with the sweet scent of fresh mown hay in the air. Life's ills would not follow, no memories or regrets. No redemption required, nothing to be forgiven or forgotten. No judgement. And all will be right in the universe. I hope there is music, beautiful music, and dancing... and love. But if there is no life after this, it is my hope that in oblivion we may at least find peace. Me. |
| Friendly Persuasion by Pat Boone (Words by Paul Francis Webster and Music by Dmitri Tiomkin) Thee I love, more than the meadow so green and still More than the mulberries on the hill More than the buds on the May apple tree, I love thee Arms have I, strong as the oak, for this occasion Lips have I, to kiss thee, too, in friendly persuasion Thee is mine, though I don't know many words of praise Thee pleasures me in a hundred ways Put on your bonnet, your cape, and your glove And come with me, for thee I love Friendly persuasion Thee is mine, though I don't know many words of praise Thee pleasures me in a hundred ways Put on your bonnet, your cape, and your glove And come with me, for thee I love |
| Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind. Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends. Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends. |
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| Fields of Gold by Sting |
| There is little in life that is unforgivable , if you open your heart and mind. Whether others forgive you your mistakes is their decision, and sadly all too often, their loss... We all make mistakes. Forgetting them is often the hardest part of all. |
| Because "Nice" Matters... |
| To Err Is Human, to Forgive... Divine. |