Category Archives: CHARACTER

” Believe, it thou wilt, that mountains change their places, but believe not that men change their dispositions.”

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To be 70 years old is like climbing the Alps. You reach a snow-crowned summit, and see behind you the deep valley stretching miles and miles away, and before you other summits higher and whiter, which you may have strength to climb, or may not.
(Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

Charity begins at hame, but shouldna end there.

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The presence of a noble nature, generous in its wishes, ardent in its charity, changes the lights for us: we begin to see things again in their larger, quieter masses, and to believe that we too can be seen and judged in the wholeness of our character.

[George Eliot [Mary Ann (or Marian) Evans] (1819-1880), British

“The important thing isn’t that the bear dances well, rather that the bear dances at all!” — Unknown Smart Person

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Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music that will melt the stars.

Gustave Flaubert

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/g/gustave_flaubert.html#73gxDwwvoqdkivSF.99

Until the lion tells his side of the story, the tale of the hunt will always glorify the hunter. Zimbabwean

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‘By gor’, that’s a bloody enormous cat.’
‘It’s a lion,’ said Granny Weatherwax, looking at the stuffed head over the fireplace.
‘Must’ve hit the wall at a hell of a speed, whatever it was,’ said Nanny Ogg.
‘Someone killed it,’ said Granny Weatherwax, surveying the room.
‘Should think so,’ said Nanny.  ‘If I’d seen something like that eatin’ its way through the wall I’d of hit it myself with a poker.’

WITCHES ABROAD TERRY PRATCHETT

“The human capacity for burden is like bamboo- far more flexible than you’d ever believe at first glance.” ― Jodi Picoult, My Sister’s Keeper

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You ask how many friends I have? Water and stone, bamboo and pine.
The moon rising over the eastern hill is a joyful comrade.
Besides these five companions, what other pleasure should I ask? ”
–  Yon Sun-do (1587-1671), Korean Poet,
Sigo  

There is something in the nature of tea that leads us into a world of quiet contemplation of life. Lin Yutang, The Importance Of Living

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“When tea becomes ritual, it takes its place at the heart of our ability to see greatness in small things. Where is beauty to be found? In great things that, like everything else, are doomed to die, or in small things that aspire to nothing, yet know how to set a jewel of infinity in a single moment?” 


― Muriel BarberyThe Elegance of the Hedgehog

Every one is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody. Mark Twain

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Full Moon by Robin Klein

At times of full moon—
I wish I knew why—
I get this strange yearning
to howl at the sky!

For reasons peculiar
I’ve not yet discovered,
the backs of my hands then
with fur become covered!

My fingernails lengthen,
my hands look like… paws!
I feel a compulsion
to walk on all fours!

My eyes redly glimmer,
hair sprouts from my ears,
fang-like my teeth grow,
with points sharp as spears!

Though normally fussy
about what I eat—
on nights when the moon’s full,
I crave RAW RED MEAT!

Whatever this is Whatever I’m going through I’ll be something new A metamorphosis Hilary Duff

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Metamorphosis. 1898 Poem.

Australian Town and Country Journal NSW1st Oct 1898
. Metamorphosis.
When first I met the dainty maid

She filled me with delight;

As graceful as the lily she,

And as the lily white.
And when I spoke my love for her

Now what do you suppose?

Why, she that was as lily white.

Turned suddenly to Rose!
But when I showed my purse to her,

An empty leathern sack,

The rose and lily maiden looked

A most decided black

http://leathemhistory.blogspot.com.au/2014/02/metamorphosis-1898-poem.html

To pick a flower is so much more satisfying than just observing it, or photographing it … So in later years, I have grown in my garden as many flowers as possible for children to pick. Anne Scott-James

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“Every child is born a naturalist. His eyes are, by nature, open to the glories of the stars, the beauty of the flowers, and the mystery of life.”  
–  R. Search 

https://www.gardendigest.com/flowers.htm

 

 

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The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 – 1954), Saturday 24 December 1927

1 1 1 1 1 The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW - 1842 - 1954), Saturday 24 December 1927

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I see a lilly on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever dew;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads
Full beautiful, a faery’s child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

John Keats

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Golden Wattle

Golden Wattle, fairy stuff
Little balls of yellow fluff
Hear the bees how loud they hum
To say they’re glad that Spring is come

When the stars begin to peep
Then the wattle falls asleep
Like a tired child in bed
It droops its pretty curly head

Anon.

(Song contributed by Mrs Jenny Sayer, who copied it out of her Headmistress’ Assembly Book (Miss Leslie Bridle) at Sans Souci Public School in 195

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Queensland Times (Ipswich) (Qld. : 1909 – 1954), Monday 27 April 1953,

1 1 1 1 1 Queensland Times (Ipswich) (Qld. - 1909 - 1954), Monday 27 April 1953,

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A Mother’s Parable by Temple Baily

The young mother set her foot on the path of Life. “Is the way long?” she asked. And her Guide said, “Yes, and the way is hard. And you will be old before you reach the end of it. But the end will be better than the beginning.”

But the young mother was happy, and she would not believe that anything could be better than these years. So she played with her children, and gathered flowers for them along the way, and bathed with them in the streams, and the sun shone on them, and life was good, and the young mother cried, “Nothing will ever be lovelier than this.”

http://www.shiva.com/learning-center/resources/poems-of-comfort/

It is the patient building of character, the intense struggle to realise the truth, which alone will tell in the future of humanity.

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The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW : 1842 – 1954), Saturday 1 April 1933,

1 1 1 1 1 1 The Sydney Morning Herald (NSW - 1842 - 1954), Saturday 1 April 1933,

 

God is merciful to those whom He sees struggling heart and soul for realization. But remain idle, without any struggle, and you will see that His grace will never come.

http://vivekananda.org/quotes.aspx

In his grief over the loss of a dog, a little boy stands for the first time on tiptoe, peering into the rueful morrow of manhood. After this most inconsolable of sorrows there is nothing life can do to him that he will not be able somehow to bear. James Thurber

 

A BOY AND A DOG
By Marty Hale

I want my boy to have a dog,
Or maybe two or three…
He’ll learn from them much easier
Than he would learn from me.
A dog will show him how to love
And bear no grudge or hate;
I’m not so good at that myself
But dogs will do it straight.

I want my boy to have a dog
To be his pal and friend,
So he may learn that friendship
Is faithful to the end.

There never yet has been a dog
Who learned to double-cross,
Nor catered to you when you won
Then dropped you when you lost. 1 1 1 1 abookofcheerfulc00fran_0051

 

A Boy and His Dog
Edgar Guest 

A boy and his dog make a glorious pair:
No better friendship is found anywhere,
For they talk and they walk and they run and they play,
And they have their deep secrets for many a day;
And that boy has a comrade who thinks and who feels,
Who walks down the road with a dog at his heels.

He may go where he will and his dog will be there,
May revel in mud and his dog will not care;
Faithful he'll stay for the slightest command
And bark with delight at the touch of his hand;
Oh, he owns a treasure which nobody steals,
Who walks down the road with a dog at his heels.

No other can lure him away from his side;
He's proof against riches and station and pride;
Fine dress does not charm him, and flattery's breath
Is lost on the dog, for he's faithful to death;
He sees the great soul which the body conceals--
Oh, it's great to be young with a dog at your heels!

 http://sofinesjoyfulmoments.com/quotes/A-Boy-&-His-Dog.htm

Cha mhisd’ a’ ghealach na coin a bhith comhartaich rithe. The moon is none the worse for the dogs’ barking at her.

 

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A Dogs Soul.

Every dog must have a soul
Somewhere deep inside
Where all his hurts and grievances
Are buried with his pride.

Where he decides the good and bad,
The wrong way from the right,
And where his judgement carefully
Is hidden from our sight.

A dog must have a secret place
Where every thought abides,
A sort of close acquaintance that
He trusts in and confides.

And when accused unjustly for
Himself, He cannot speak,
Rebuked, He finds within his soul
The comfort he must seek.

He’ll love, tho’he is unloved,
And he’ll serve tho’badly used,
And one kind word will wipe away
The times when he’s abused.

Altho’ his heart may break in two
His love will still be whole,
Because God gave to every dog
An understanding Soul!

Author Unknown

http://www.wolfweb.com.au/acd/dogsoul.htm

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The Land (Sydney, NSW : 1911 – 1954), Friday 11 March 1921,

1 1 1 1 1 1 The Land (Sydney, NSW - 1911 - 1954), Friday 11 March 1921,

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It is not the horse that draws the cart, but the oats. Russia.

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1 1 1 1 1 1 aQueenscliff Sentinel, Drysdale, Portarlington & Sorrento Advertiser (Vic. - 1885 - 1894), Saturday 26 July 1890,

Queenscliff Sentinel, Drysdale, Portarlington & Sorrento Advertiser (Vic. : 1885 – 1894), Saturday 26 July 1890,1 1 1 1 1 1 Fotor0206182852

 

I’ve finally reached the age where my Wild Oats have turned into All-Bran!

 

TOM WILSON, Ziggy, Nov. 19, 1999

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Wild Oats

BY PHILIP LARKIN

About twenty years ago
Two girls came in where I worked—
A bosomy English rose
And her friend in specs I could talk to.
Faces in those days sparked
The whole shooting-match off, and I doubt
If ever one had like hers:
But it was the friend I took out,
And in seven years after that
Wrote over four hundred letters,
Gave a ten-guinea ring
I got back in the end, and met
At numerous cathedral cities
Unknown to the clergy. I believe
I met beautiful twice. She was trying
Both times (so I thought) not to laugh.
Parting, after about five
Rehearsals, was an agreement
That I was too selfish, withdrawn,
And easily bored to love.
Well, useful to get that learnt.
In my wallet are still two snaps
Of bosomy rose with fur gloves on.
Unlucky charms, perhaps.
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Beautiful discourse is rarer than emerald ~ yet it can be found among the servant girls at the grindstones. Egyptian 

http://afritorial.com/the-best-72-african-wise-proverbs/

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Life is like a grindstone, whether it grinds him down or polishes him depends on the stuff he is made of.

http://www.brownielocks.com/folksayings.html

Bir musibet, yuz tembihten iyidir. – (Beauty passes, wisdom remains.) Used to make a point that wisdom matters more than physical beauty.

http://www.turkishculture.org/pages.php?SearchID=133

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Khizr chose the path to Kabul in order to reach Paradise
For her mountains brought him close to the delights of heaven
From the fort with sprawling walls, A Dragon of protection
Each stone is there more precious than the treasure of Shayagan
Every street of Kabul is enthralling to the eye
Through the bazaars, caravans of Egypt pass
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs
And the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls …

Saib-e-Tabrizi, 17th century poet

http://stevemccurry.wordpress.com/2011/01/29/proverbs-and-poems-from-afghanistan/

My childhood was seashells and sandalwood, windmills and yachts in the southerly, ploughshares and keels. Randolph Stow.

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Robert Desnos

Sky Song

The flower of the Alps told the seashell: “You’re shining”
The seashell told the sea: “You echo”
The sea told the boat: “You’re shuddering”
The boat told the fire: “You’re glowing brightly”
The fire told me: “I glow less brightly than her eyes”
The boat told me: “I shudder less than your heart does when she appears”
The sea told me: “I echo less than her name does in your love-making”
The seashell told me: “I shine less brightly than the phosphorus of desire in your hollow dream”
The flower of the Alps told me: “She’s beautiful”
I said: “She’s beautiful, so beautiful, she moves me.”

http://www.inspirationalstories.com/poems/sky-song-robert-desnos-poem/