The Treasures In You
There are treasures in life, but owners are few
Of money and power to buy things brand new
Yet you can be wealthy and feel regal too,
If you will just look for the treasures in you.
These treasures in life are not hard to find
When you look in your heart, your soul, and your mind.
For when you are willing to share what’s within,
Your fervent search for riches will end.
The joy and the laughter, the smile that you bring;
The heart unafraid to love and to sing;
The hand always willing to help those in need;
Ones quick to reach out, to labor and feed.
So thank you for sharing these great gifts inside;
The caring, the cheering, the hug when one cried.
Thanks for the energy, encouragement too,
And thank you for sharing the treasures in you.
By Author Unknown
There are treasures in life, but owners are few
Of money and power to buy things brand new
Yet you can be wealthy and feel regal too,
If you will just look for the treasures in you.
These treasures in life are not hard to find
When you look in your heart, your soul, and your mind.
For when you are willing to share what’s within,
Your fervent search for riches will end.
The joy and the laughter, the smile that you bring;
The heart unafraid to love and to sing;
The hand always willing to help those in need;
Ones quick to reach out, to labor and feed.
So thank you for sharing these great gifts inside;
The caring, the cheering, the hug when one cried.
Thanks for the energy, encouragement too,
And thank you for sharing the treasures in you.
By Author Unknown
Dare To Dream!
Dare to dream.
Let nothing hold you back from
exploring your wildest fantasies,
wishes, and aspirations.
Don’t be afraid to dream big
and to follow your dreams
wherever they may lead you.
Open your eyes to their beauty;
open your mind to their magic;
open your heart to their possibilities.
Dare to dream.
Whether they are in color
or in black and white,
whether they are big or small,
easily attainable
or almost impossible,
look to your dreams,
and make them become reality.
Wishes and hopes are nothing
until you take the first step
towards making them something!
Dare to dream,
because only by dreaming
will you ever discover
who you are, what you want,
and what you can do.
Don’t be afraid to take risks,
to become involved,
to make a commitment.
Do whatever it takes to make
your dreams come true.
Always believe in miracles,
and always believe in you!
By Julie-Anne Ford
Julie-Anne Ford was born on 10 October 1931 in Sydney, Australia. She was the Australian director of the American Broadcasting Company’s radio drama program from 1985 through 1989. Julie-Anne Ford passed on at 81 years of age on 24 December 2012.
Dare to dream.
Let nothing hold you back from
exploring your wildest fantasies,
wishes, and aspirations.
Don’t be afraid to dream big
and to follow your dreams
wherever they may lead you.
Open your eyes to their beauty;
open your mind to their magic;
open your heart to their possibilities.
Dare to dream.
Whether they are in color
or in black and white,
whether they are big or small,
easily attainable
or almost impossible,
look to your dreams,
and make them become reality.
Wishes and hopes are nothing
until you take the first step
towards making them something!
Dare to dream,
because only by dreaming
will you ever discover
who you are, what you want,
and what you can do.
Don’t be afraid to take risks,
to become involved,
to make a commitment.
Do whatever it takes to make
your dreams come true.
Always believe in miracles,
and always believe in you!
By Julie-Anne Ford
Julie-Anne Ford was born on 10 October 1931 in Sydney, Australia. She was the Australian director of the American Broadcasting Company’s radio drama program from 1985 through 1989. Julie-Anne Ford passed on at 81 years of age on 24 December 2012.
See It Through
When you’re up against a trouble,
Meet it squarely, face to face;
Lift your chin and set your shoulders,
Plant your feet and take a brace.
When it’s vain to try to dodge it,
Do the best that you can do;
You may fail, but you may conquer,
See it through!
Black may be the clouds about you
And your future may seem grim,
But don’t let your nerve desert you;
Keep yourself in fighting trim.
If the worst is bound to happen,
Spite of all that you can do,
Running from it will not save you,
See it through!
Even hope may seem but futile,
When with troubles you’re beset,
But remember you are facing
Just what other men have met.
You may fail, but fall still fighting;
Don’t give up, whate’er you do;
Eyes front, head high to the finish.
See it through!
By Edgar A. Guest
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When you’re up against a trouble,
Meet it squarely, face to face;
Lift your chin and set your shoulders,
Plant your feet and take a brace.
When it’s vain to try to dodge it,
Do the best that you can do;
You may fail, but you may conquer,
See it through!
Black may be the clouds about you
And your future may seem grim,
But don’t let your nerve desert you;
Keep yourself in fighting trim.
If the worst is bound to happen,
Spite of all that you can do,
Running from it will not save you,
See it through!
Even hope may seem but futile,
When with troubles you’re beset,
But remember you are facing
Just what other men have met.
You may fail, but fall still fighting;
Don’t give up, whate’er you do;
Eyes front, head high to the finish.
See it through!
By Edgar A. Guest
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the next article, or click or tap on these words to read Continuing And Progressing Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the next article, or click or tap on these words to read Edgar Albert Guest Biography Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
The Value Of A Smile
The thing that goes the farthest
Towards making life worthwhile,
That costs the least, and does the most,
Is just a pleasant smile.
The smile that bubbles from the heart
That loves its fellow men
Will drive away the clouds of gloom
And coax the sun again.
It pays the higher interest,
For it is merely lent,
It’s worth a million dollars -
And it doesn’t cost a cent.
There is no room for sadness
Where we see a cheery smile;
It always has the same good look;
It’s never out of style;
It nerves us on to try again
When failure makes us blue;
The dimples of encouragement are good
For me and you.
So - smile away!
Folks understand by what a smile is meant;
It’s worth a million dollars -
And it doesn’t cost a cent.
A smile comes easily enough,
A twinkle in the eye
Is natural, and does more good
Than a long drawn sigh!
It touches on the heartstrings
Till they quiver blithe and long,
And always leaves an echo
That is very like a song.
By Wilbur D. Nesbit: “The Value of a Smile” (1907), ‘The Value of a Smile’
Wilbur Dick Nesbit was born on 16 September 1872 in Xenia, Ohio, United States of America. He became a poet, a writer, and a vice president of the Mahin Advertising Company of Chicago. Wilbur Dick Nesbit passed on at 54 years of age on 20 August 1927 in Chicago, Illinois, United States of America.
The thing that goes the farthest
Towards making life worthwhile,
That costs the least, and does the most,
Is just a pleasant smile.
The smile that bubbles from the heart
That loves its fellow men
Will drive away the clouds of gloom
And coax the sun again.
It pays the higher interest,
For it is merely lent,
It’s worth a million dollars -
And it doesn’t cost a cent.
There is no room for sadness
Where we see a cheery smile;
It always has the same good look;
It’s never out of style;
It nerves us on to try again
When failure makes us blue;
The dimples of encouragement are good
For me and you.
So - smile away!
Folks understand by what a smile is meant;
It’s worth a million dollars -
And it doesn’t cost a cent.
A smile comes easily enough,
A twinkle in the eye
Is natural, and does more good
Than a long drawn sigh!
It touches on the heartstrings
Till they quiver blithe and long,
And always leaves an echo
That is very like a song.
By Wilbur D. Nesbit: “The Value of a Smile” (1907), ‘The Value of a Smile’
Wilbur Dick Nesbit was born on 16 September 1872 in Xenia, Ohio, United States of America. He became a poet, a writer, and a vice president of the Mahin Advertising Company of Chicago. Wilbur Dick Nesbit passed on at 54 years of age on 20 August 1927 in Chicago, Illinois, United States of America.
Equipment
Figure it out for yourself, my lad,
You’ve all that the greatest of men have had,
Two arms, two hands, two legs, two eyes,
And a brain to use if you would be wise.
With this equipment they all began,
So start for the top and say, “I can.”
Look them over, the wise and great,
They take their food from a common plate,
And similar knives and forks they use,
With similar laces they tie their shoes,
The world considers them brave and smart,
But you’ve all they had when they made their start.
You can triumph and come to skill,
You can be great if only you will.
You’re well equipped for what fight you choose,
You have legs and arms, and a brain to use,
And the man who has risen great deeds to do
Began his life with no more than you.
You are the handicap you must face,
You are the one who must choose your place,
You must say where you want to go,
How much you will study the truth to know.
God has equipped you for life, but He
Lets you decide what you want to be.
Courage must come from the soul within,
The man must furnish the will to win.
So figure it out for yourself, my lad.
You were born with all that the great have had,
With your equipment they all began.
Get hold of yourself, and say: “I can.”
By Edgar A. Guest: “Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest” (1934), page 666
Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest was born on 20 August 1881 in Birmingham, England. He immigrated with his family to the United States of America in 1891. From his first published work in the “Detroit Free Press” until his passing in 1959, he penned some 11,000 poems that were syndicated in 300 newspapers and collected into more than twenty books. Mr. Guest is reputed to have had a new poem published in a newspaper every day for more than thirty years. He became known as ‘The People’s Poet,’ writing poems that were of a sentimental and optimistic nature. Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest passed on at 77 years of age on 5 August 1959 in Detroit, Michigan, United States of America.
Figure it out for yourself, my lad,
You’ve all that the greatest of men have had,
Two arms, two hands, two legs, two eyes,
And a brain to use if you would be wise.
With this equipment they all began,
So start for the top and say, “I can.”
Look them over, the wise and great,
They take their food from a common plate,
And similar knives and forks they use,
With similar laces they tie their shoes,
The world considers them brave and smart,
But you’ve all they had when they made their start.
You can triumph and come to skill,
You can be great if only you will.
You’re well equipped for what fight you choose,
You have legs and arms, and a brain to use,
And the man who has risen great deeds to do
Began his life with no more than you.
You are the handicap you must face,
You are the one who must choose your place,
You must say where you want to go,
How much you will study the truth to know.
God has equipped you for life, but He
Lets you decide what you want to be.
Courage must come from the soul within,
The man must furnish the will to win.
So figure it out for yourself, my lad.
You were born with all that the great have had,
With your equipment they all began.
Get hold of yourself, and say: “I can.”
By Edgar A. Guest: “Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest” (1934), page 666
Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest was born on 20 August 1881 in Birmingham, England. He immigrated with his family to the United States of America in 1891. From his first published work in the “Detroit Free Press” until his passing in 1959, he penned some 11,000 poems that were syndicated in 300 newspapers and collected into more than twenty books. Mr. Guest is reputed to have had a new poem published in a newspaper every day for more than thirty years. He became known as ‘The People’s Poet,’ writing poems that were of a sentimental and optimistic nature. Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest passed on at 77 years of age on 5 August 1959 in Detroit, Michigan, United States of America.
Picture of a child waving from the wheelhouse of the wreck of an old boat named Try Again that washed ashore.
Try, Try Again
’Tis a lesson you should heed,
If at first you don’t succeed,
Try, try again;
Then your courage should appear,
For if you will persevere,
You will conquer, never fear
Try, try again;
Once or twice, though you should fail,
If you would at last prevail,
Try, try again;
If we strive, ‘tis no disgrace
Though we do not win the race;
What should you do in the case?
Try, try again
If you find your task is hard,
Time will bring you your reward,
Try, try again
All that other folks can do,
Why, with patience, should not you?
Only keep this rule in view:
Try, try again.
By T. H. Palmer: “Teacher’s Manual” (1840), page 223
Thomas Haig Palmer was born on 27 December 1782 in Kelso, Scottish Borders, Scotland. In 1804, he immigrated to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States of America, where he became a printer, a publisher, and an author of school textbooks and historical records. Thomas Haig Palmer passed on at 78 years of age on 20 July 1861 in Pittsford, Rutland County, Vermont, United States of America.
’Tis a lesson you should heed,
If at first you don’t succeed,
Try, try again;
Then your courage should appear,
For if you will persevere,
You will conquer, never fear
Try, try again;
Once or twice, though you should fail,
If you would at last prevail,
Try, try again;
If we strive, ‘tis no disgrace
Though we do not win the race;
What should you do in the case?
Try, try again
If you find your task is hard,
Time will bring you your reward,
Try, try again
All that other folks can do,
Why, with patience, should not you?
Only keep this rule in view:
Try, try again.
By T. H. Palmer: “Teacher’s Manual” (1840), page 223
Thomas Haig Palmer was born on 27 December 1782 in Kelso, Scottish Borders, Scotland. In 1804, he immigrated to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States of America, where he became a printer, a publisher, and an author of school textbooks and historical records. Thomas Haig Palmer passed on at 78 years of age on 20 July 1861 in Pittsford, Rutland County, Vermont, United States of America.
Courage
I do not ask to walk smooth paths,
nor bear an easy load.
I pray for strength and fortitude
to climb the rock strewn road.
Give me such courage and I can scale
the hardest peaks alone,
And transform every stumbling block
into a stepping stone!
By Gail Brook Burket
I do not ask to walk smooth paths,
nor bear an easy load.
I pray for strength and fortitude
to climb the rock strewn road.
Give me such courage and I can scale
the hardest peaks alone,
And transform every stumbling block
into a stepping stone!
By Gail Brook Burket
Amelia Earhart with her first plane, a Kinner Airster open-cockpit biplane, photographed in about 1921.
Courage
Courage is the price that Life exacts for granting peace,
The soul that knows it not
Knows no release from little things:
Knows not the livid loneliness of fear,
Nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear
The sound of wings.
How can Life grant us boon of living, compensate
For dull gray ugliness and pregnant hate
Unless we dare.
The soul’s dominion? Each time we make a choice, we pay
With courage to behold the resistless day,
And count it fair.
By Amelia Earhart (1927)
Amelia Mary Earhart was born on 24 July 1897 in Atchinson, Kansas, United States of America. She became an aviator, a writer, and a poet. One of the most courageous people of her generation, she made history in 1932 as the first woman to complete a solo flight over the Atlantic Ocean, traveling from Harbor Grace, Newfoundland to Ireland in about fifteen hours. Amelia Mary Earhart went missing in July 1937 while attempting an around-the-world flight following the equator, which began with a take-off from the island of New Guinea.
Courage is the price that Life exacts for granting peace,
The soul that knows it not
Knows no release from little things:
Knows not the livid loneliness of fear,
Nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear
The sound of wings.
How can Life grant us boon of living, compensate
For dull gray ugliness and pregnant hate
Unless we dare.
The soul’s dominion? Each time we make a choice, we pay
With courage to behold the resistless day,
And count it fair.
By Amelia Earhart (1927)
Amelia Mary Earhart was born on 24 July 1897 in Atchinson, Kansas, United States of America. She became an aviator, a writer, and a poet. One of the most courageous people of her generation, she made history in 1932 as the first woman to complete a solo flight over the Atlantic Ocean, traveling from Harbor Grace, Newfoundland to Ireland in about fifteen hours. Amelia Mary Earhart went missing in July 1937 while attempting an around-the-world flight following the equator, which began with a take-off from the island of New Guinea.
Winners Are People Like You
Winners take chances.
Like everyone else, they fear failing,
but they refuse to let fear control them.
Winners don’t give up.
When life gets rough, they hang in
until the going gets better.
Winners are flexible.
They realize there is more than one way
and are willing to try others.
Winners know they are not perfect.
They respect their weaknesses
while making the most of their strengths.
Winners fall, but they don’t stay down.
They stubbornly refuse to let a fall
keep them from climbing . . .
Winners don’t blame fate for their failures
nor luck for their successes.
Winners accept responsibility for their lives.
Winners are positive thinkers
who see good in all things.
From the ordinary, they make the extraordinary.
Winners believe in the path they have chosen
even when it’s hard,
even when others can’t see where they are going.
Winners are patient.
They know a goal is only as worthy
as the effort that is required to achieve it.
Winners are people like you.
They make the world a better place to be.
By Nancye Sims
To read and enjoy more of Nancye Sim’s inspired writings, visit https://www.nancyesims.com/.
Winners take chances.
Like everyone else, they fear failing,
but they refuse to let fear control them.
Winners don’t give up.
When life gets rough, they hang in
until the going gets better.
Winners are flexible.
They realize there is more than one way
and are willing to try others.
Winners know they are not perfect.
They respect their weaknesses
while making the most of their strengths.
Winners fall, but they don’t stay down.
They stubbornly refuse to let a fall
keep them from climbing . . .
Winners don’t blame fate for their failures
nor luck for their successes.
Winners accept responsibility for their lives.
Winners are positive thinkers
who see good in all things.
From the ordinary, they make the extraordinary.
Winners believe in the path they have chosen
even when it’s hard,
even when others can’t see where they are going.
Winners are patient.
They know a goal is only as worthy
as the effort that is required to achieve it.
Winners are people like you.
They make the world a better place to be.
By Nancye Sims
To read and enjoy more of Nancye Sim’s inspired writings, visit https://www.nancyesims.com/.
Morning
The lark is up to meet the sun,
The bee is on the wing,
The ant her labor has begun,
The woods with music ring.
Shall birds and bees and ants be wise,
While I my moments waste?
Oh, let me with the morning rise,
And to my duties haste.
Why should I sleep till beams of morn
Their light and glory shed?
Immortal beings were not born
To waste their time in bed.
By Jane Taylor
Jane Taylor was born on 23 September 1783 in London, England, as one among an extensive literary family. She became an essayist, a playwright, a short story writer, a novelist, and a poet. Jane Taylor worked as an editor and writer for “Youth’s Magazine.” She is known as the author of the song, “The Star,” also known as “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” (1806), and the poem, “The Violet,” among other works. Jane Taylor passed on at 40 years of age on 13 April 1824 in Ongar, Essex, England.
The lark is up to meet the sun,
The bee is on the wing,
The ant her labor has begun,
The woods with music ring.
Shall birds and bees and ants be wise,
While I my moments waste?
Oh, let me with the morning rise,
And to my duties haste.
Why should I sleep till beams of morn
Their light and glory shed?
Immortal beings were not born
To waste their time in bed.
By Jane Taylor
Jane Taylor was born on 23 September 1783 in London, England, as one among an extensive literary family. She became an essayist, a playwright, a short story writer, a novelist, and a poet. Jane Taylor worked as an editor and writer for “Youth’s Magazine.” She is known as the author of the song, “The Star,” also known as “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” (1806), and the poem, “The Violet,” among other works. Jane Taylor passed on at 40 years of age on 13 April 1824 in Ongar, Essex, England.
Life Is
Life is . . .
for thinking before acting,
for hearing before judging,
for forgiving your enemies,
for being candid and frank,
for helping a fallen brother,
for being honest in business,
for thinking before speaking,
for being loyal to your church,
for standing by your principles,
for stopping your ears to gossip,
for bridling a slanderous tongue,
for harboring only pure thoughts,
for sympathizing with the afflicted,
for being courteous and kind to all.
By Author Unknown
Life is . . .
for thinking before acting,
for hearing before judging,
for forgiving your enemies,
for being candid and frank,
for helping a fallen brother,
for being honest in business,
for thinking before speaking,
for being loyal to your church,
for standing by your principles,
for stopping your ears to gossip,
for bridling a slanderous tongue,
for harboring only pure thoughts,
for sympathizing with the afflicted,
for being courteous and kind to all.
By Author Unknown
Words Of Elbert Hubbard
Genius is often only the power of making continuous efforts. The line between failure and success is so fine that we scarcely know when we pass it - so fine that we are often on the line and do not know it. How many a man has thrown up his hands at a time when a little more effort, a little more patience, would have achieved success. As the tide goes clear out, so it comes clear in. In business sometimes prospects may seem darkest when really they are on the turn. A little more persistence, a little more effort, and what seemed hopeless failure may turn to glorious success. There is no failure except in no longer trying. There is no defeat except from within, no really insurmountable barrier save our own inherent weakness of purpose.
-Elbert Hubbard: as quoted in Alice Hubbard, editor: “The Note Book of Elbert Hubbard” (1927), page 13
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the next article, or click or tap on these words to read Elbert Hubbard Biography Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Genius is often only the power of making continuous efforts. The line between failure and success is so fine that we scarcely know when we pass it - so fine that we are often on the line and do not know it. How many a man has thrown up his hands at a time when a little more effort, a little more patience, would have achieved success. As the tide goes clear out, so it comes clear in. In business sometimes prospects may seem darkest when really they are on the turn. A little more persistence, a little more effort, and what seemed hopeless failure may turn to glorious success. There is no failure except in no longer trying. There is no defeat except from within, no really insurmountable barrier save our own inherent weakness of purpose.
-Elbert Hubbard: as quoted in Alice Hubbard, editor: “The Note Book of Elbert Hubbard” (1927), page 13
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the next article, or click or tap on these words to read Elbert Hubbard Biography Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Success
Dream - More.
Think - Highly.
Choose - Best.
Analyze - Twice.
Plan - Perfectly.
Be - Confident.
Work - Hard.
Execute - Well.
Success - Yours.
By Author Unknown
Dream - More.
Think - Highly.
Choose - Best.
Analyze - Twice.
Plan - Perfectly.
Be - Confident.
Work - Hard.
Execute - Well.
Success - Yours.
By Author Unknown
Use Your Imagination To Find Success
Visualize what you want.
See it, Feel it, Believe in it.
Your mind is a mental workshop.
You can build anything in it.
Make your mental blueprint,
And begin to build.
The beginning is in your imagination;
First think, then organize your thoughts into plans.
Then transform your thoughts into reality
By taking some positive action.
Use your imagination to perceive your reality,
Even when it is not fully materialized.
You must first see it clearly in your mind
Before you can do it.
First visualize and then actualize your way
To success.
You really can live your dreams.
All you need to do is try.
By Author Unknown
Visualize what you want.
See it, Feel it, Believe in it.
Your mind is a mental workshop.
You can build anything in it.
Make your mental blueprint,
And begin to build.
The beginning is in your imagination;
First think, then organize your thoughts into plans.
Then transform your thoughts into reality
By taking some positive action.
Use your imagination to perceive your reality,
Even when it is not fully materialized.
You must first see it clearly in your mind
Before you can do it.
First visualize and then actualize your way
To success.
You really can live your dreams.
All you need to do is try.
By Author Unknown
Try Smiling
Frowns won’t get you anywhere;
When your face is lined with care
And your troubles you can’t bear -
Try smiling.
When your eyes are on the ground
Do not moan with mournful sound,
Lift your eyes and look around -
Try smiling.
When your goal seems far away
Keep smiling at the world today,
It will ease and smooth your way -
Try smiling.
By Everett Wentworth Hill
Frowns won’t get you anywhere;
When your face is lined with care
And your troubles you can’t bear -
Try smiling.
When your eyes are on the ground
Do not moan with mournful sound,
Lift your eyes and look around -
Try smiling.
When your goal seems far away
Keep smiling at the world today,
It will ease and smooth your way -
Try smiling.
By Everett Wentworth Hill
Hope, Faith, And Love
There are three lessons I would write,
Three words as with a golden pen,
In tracings of eternal light
Upon the hearts of men.
Have Hope! Though clouds environ now,
And Gladness hides her face in scorn,
Put thou the shadow from thy brow -
No night but has its morn.
Have Faith! Where’er thy bark is driven -
The calm’s disport, the tempest’s mirth -
Know this: God rules the hosts of Heaven,
The inhabitants of Earth.
Have Love! Not love alone for one,
But men, as man, thy brothers call,
And scatter like the circling Sun,
Thy charities on all.
Thus grave these words upon thy soul -
Hope, faith and love - and thou shalt find
Strength when life’s surges maddest roll,
Light when thou else wert blind.
By Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller (about 1786)
Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller, also known simply as Friedrich Schiller, was born on 10 November 1759 in Marbach am Neckar, Duchy of Württemberg, Holy Roman Empire. He became a poet, an essayist, a historian, a dramatist, and a playwright. He is the author of the plays “The Robbers” (1781), “Don Carlos” (1787), the trilogy “Wallenstein” (1796), “William Tell” (1804), and the poem “Ode to Joy” (1785). Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller passed on at 45 years of age on 9 May 1805 in Weimer, Duchy of Saxe-Weimer, Holy Roman Empire.
There are three lessons I would write,
Three words as with a golden pen,
In tracings of eternal light
Upon the hearts of men.
Have Hope! Though clouds environ now,
And Gladness hides her face in scorn,
Put thou the shadow from thy brow -
No night but has its morn.
Have Faith! Where’er thy bark is driven -
The calm’s disport, the tempest’s mirth -
Know this: God rules the hosts of Heaven,
The inhabitants of Earth.
Have Love! Not love alone for one,
But men, as man, thy brothers call,
And scatter like the circling Sun,
Thy charities on all.
Thus grave these words upon thy soul -
Hope, faith and love - and thou shalt find
Strength when life’s surges maddest roll,
Light when thou else wert blind.
By Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller (about 1786)
Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller, also known simply as Friedrich Schiller, was born on 10 November 1759 in Marbach am Neckar, Duchy of Württemberg, Holy Roman Empire. He became a poet, an essayist, a historian, a dramatist, and a playwright. He is the author of the plays “The Robbers” (1781), “Don Carlos” (1787), the trilogy “Wallenstein” (1796), “William Tell” (1804), and the poem “Ode to Joy” (1785). Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller passed on at 45 years of age on 9 May 1805 in Weimer, Duchy of Saxe-Weimer, Holy Roman Empire.
What We Give Away
The more we give, the more we get;
The more we laugh, the less we fret;
The more we do unselfishly,
The more we live abundantly;
The more of everything we share,
The more we’ll always have to spare;
The more we love, the more we’ll find,
That life is good and friends are kind;
For only what we give away
Enriches us from day to day.
By Author Unknown
The more we give, the more we get;
The more we laugh, the less we fret;
The more we do unselfishly,
The more we live abundantly;
The more of everything we share,
The more we’ll always have to spare;
The more we love, the more we’ll find,
That life is good and friends are kind;
For only what we give away
Enriches us from day to day.
By Author Unknown
Gratitude
Be grateful for the kindly friends that walk along your way;
Be grateful for the skies of blue that smile from day to day;
Be grateful for the health you own, the work you find to do,
For round about you there are men less fortunate than you.
Be grateful for the growing trees, the roses soon to bloom,
The tenderness of kindly hearts that shared your days of gloom;
Be grateful for the morning dew, the grass beneath your feet,
The soft caresses of your babes and all their laughter sweet.
Acquire the grateful habit, learn to see how blest you are,
How much there is to gladden life, how little life to mar!
And what if rain shall fall today and you with grief are sad;
Be grateful that you can recall the joys that you have had.
By Edgar A. Guest
Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest was born on 20 August 1881 in Birmingham, England. He immigrated with his family to the United States of America in 1891. From his first published work in the “Detroit Free Press” until his passing in 1959, he penned some 11,000 poems that were syndicated in 300 newspapers and collected into more than twenty books. Mr. Guest is reputed to have had a new poem published in a newspaper every day for more than thirty years. He became known as ‘The People’s Poet,’ writing poems that were of a sentimental and optimistic nature. Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest passed on at 77 years of age on 5 August 1959 in Detroit, Michigan, United States of America.
Be grateful for the kindly friends that walk along your way;
Be grateful for the skies of blue that smile from day to day;
Be grateful for the health you own, the work you find to do,
For round about you there are men less fortunate than you.
Be grateful for the growing trees, the roses soon to bloom,
The tenderness of kindly hearts that shared your days of gloom;
Be grateful for the morning dew, the grass beneath your feet,
The soft caresses of your babes and all their laughter sweet.
Acquire the grateful habit, learn to see how blest you are,
How much there is to gladden life, how little life to mar!
And what if rain shall fall today and you with grief are sad;
Be grateful that you can recall the joys that you have had.
By Edgar A. Guest
Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest was born on 20 August 1881 in Birmingham, England. He immigrated with his family to the United States of America in 1891. From his first published work in the “Detroit Free Press” until his passing in 1959, he penned some 11,000 poems that were syndicated in 300 newspapers and collected into more than twenty books. Mr. Guest is reputed to have had a new poem published in a newspaper every day for more than thirty years. He became known as ‘The People’s Poet,’ writing poems that were of a sentimental and optimistic nature. Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest passed on at 77 years of age on 5 August 1959 in Detroit, Michigan, United States of America.
Happy Home Recipe
Ingredients
□ 4 cups of love
□ 2 cups of loyalty
□ 3 cups of forgiveness
□ 1 cup of friendship
□ 5 spoons of hope
□ 2 spoons of tenderness
□ 4 quarts of faith
□ 1 barrel of laughter
Directions
1. Take love and loyalty, mix thoroughly with faith.
2. Blend it with tenderness, kindness, and understanding.
3. Add friendship and hope, sprinkle abundantly with laughter.
4. Bake it with sunshine.
5. Serve daily with generous helpings.
By Author Unknown
Ingredients
□ 4 cups of love
□ 2 cups of loyalty
□ 3 cups of forgiveness
□ 1 cup of friendship
□ 5 spoons of hope
□ 2 spoons of tenderness
□ 4 quarts of faith
□ 1 barrel of laughter
Directions
1. Take love and loyalty, mix thoroughly with faith.
2. Blend it with tenderness, kindness, and understanding.
3. Add friendship and hope, sprinkle abundantly with laughter.
4. Bake it with sunshine.
5. Serve daily with generous helpings.
By Author Unknown
Life
They told me that Life could be just what I made it -
Life could be fashioned and worn like a gown;
I, the designer, mine the decision
Whether to wear it with bonnet or crown.
And so I selected the prettiest pattern -
Life should be made of the rosiest hue -
Something unique, and a bit out of fashion,
One that perhaps would be chosen by few.
But other folks came and they leaned o’er my shoulder;
Someone questioned the ultimate cost;
Somebody tangled the thread I was using;
One day I found that my scissors were lost.
And somebody claimed the material faded;
Somebody said I’d be tired ere ‘twas worn;
Somebody’s fingers, too pointed and spiteful,
Snatched at the cloth, and I saw it was torn.
Oh! somebody tried to do all the sewing,
Wanting always to advise or condone.
Here is my life, the product of many;
Where is that gown I could fashion - alone?
By Nan Terrell Reed
Nan Terrell Reed was born on 31 May 1886 in Connecticut, United States of America. She became a poet and a songwriter. She began writing poems in childhood, and later decided to make a business of poetry writing after becoming married to Russell A. Reed (1884 - 1969), making an effort to write a poem a day. Her poems were widely published in magazines and books, including in her book, “Prose and Poems” (1919). Nan Terrell Reed passed on at 82 years of age on 14 February 1969.
They told me that Life could be just what I made it -
Life could be fashioned and worn like a gown;
I, the designer, mine the decision
Whether to wear it with bonnet or crown.
And so I selected the prettiest pattern -
Life should be made of the rosiest hue -
Something unique, and a bit out of fashion,
One that perhaps would be chosen by few.
But other folks came and they leaned o’er my shoulder;
Someone questioned the ultimate cost;
Somebody tangled the thread I was using;
One day I found that my scissors were lost.
And somebody claimed the material faded;
Somebody said I’d be tired ere ‘twas worn;
Somebody’s fingers, too pointed and spiteful,
Snatched at the cloth, and I saw it was torn.
Oh! somebody tried to do all the sewing,
Wanting always to advise or condone.
Here is my life, the product of many;
Where is that gown I could fashion - alone?
By Nan Terrell Reed
Nan Terrell Reed was born on 31 May 1886 in Connecticut, United States of America. She became a poet and a songwriter. She began writing poems in childhood, and later decided to make a business of poetry writing after becoming married to Russell A. Reed (1884 - 1969), making an effort to write a poem a day. Her poems were widely published in magazines and books, including in her book, “Prose and Poems” (1919). Nan Terrell Reed passed on at 82 years of age on 14 February 1969.
Capsule Course In Human Relations
The five most important words in the English language:
“I am proud of you.”
The four most important words:
“What is your opinion?”
The three most important words:
“If you please.”
The two most important words:
“Thank you.”
The least important word:
“I.”
By Robert W. Woodruff
Robert Winship Woodruff was born on 6 December 1889 in Columbus, Georgia, United States of America. He became a businessman and a corporate executive. Robert Winship Woodruff passed on at 95 years of age on 7 March 1985 in Atlanta, Georgia, United States of America.
The five most important words in the English language:
“I am proud of you.”
The four most important words:
“What is your opinion?”
The three most important words:
“If you please.”
The two most important words:
“Thank you.”
The least important word:
“I.”
By Robert W. Woodruff
Robert Winship Woodruff was born on 6 December 1889 in Columbus, Georgia, United States of America. He became a businessman and a corporate executive. Robert Winship Woodruff passed on at 95 years of age on 7 March 1985 in Atlanta, Georgia, United States of America.
Worth While
It is easy enough to be pleasant,
When life flows by like a song,
But the man worth while is one who will smile,
When everything goes dead wrong.
For the test of the heart is trouble,
And it always comes with the years,
And the smile that is worth the praises of Earth,
Is the smile that shines through tears.
It is easy enough to be prudent,
When nothing tempts you to stray,
When without or within no voice of sin
Is luring your soul away;
But it’s only a negative virtue
Until it is tried by fire,
And the life that is worth the honor on Earth,
Is the one that resists desire.
By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,
Who had no strength for the strife,
The world’s highway is cumbered to-day,
They make up the sum of life.
But the virtue that conquers passion,
And the sorrow that hides in a smile,
It is these that are worth the homage on Earth
For we find them but once in a while.
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Ella Wheeler Wilcox was born on 5 November 1850 in Johnstown, Wisconsin, United States of America. She became a poet and a journalist. Ella Wheeler Wilcox passed on at 68 years of age on 30 October 1919 in Short Beach, Connecticut, United States of America.
It is easy enough to be pleasant,
When life flows by like a song,
But the man worth while is one who will smile,
When everything goes dead wrong.
For the test of the heart is trouble,
And it always comes with the years,
And the smile that is worth the praises of Earth,
Is the smile that shines through tears.
It is easy enough to be prudent,
When nothing tempts you to stray,
When without or within no voice of sin
Is luring your soul away;
But it’s only a negative virtue
Until it is tried by fire,
And the life that is worth the honor on Earth,
Is the one that resists desire.
By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,
Who had no strength for the strife,
The world’s highway is cumbered to-day,
They make up the sum of life.
But the virtue that conquers passion,
And the sorrow that hides in a smile,
It is these that are worth the homage on Earth
For we find them but once in a while.
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Ella Wheeler Wilcox was born on 5 November 1850 in Johnstown, Wisconsin, United States of America. She became a poet and a journalist. Ella Wheeler Wilcox passed on at 68 years of age on 30 October 1919 in Short Beach, Connecticut, United States of America.
I Hope You Do!
I hope you woke up this morning with a big smile on your face
I hope the sun is shining just for you
and the birds are singing their very best songs . . .
I hope your coffee is hot and tastes just right
and the cats are purring contentedly, and the mailman waves a
cheery hello and there are no bills in the mailbox . . .
I hope just everything goes your way . . .
I hope everything is well with your world,
a place for everything and everything in its place . . .
I hope you can enjoy all you do and you are
complimented on the way
you look and you can laugh
and talk and share to your heart’s content
I hope you have all you wish for yourself and those dear to you,
and all your dreams come true . . .
At the end of the day
I wish you a perfect moon shining just for you,
a snug and cozy bed with the softest of pillows
and I hope you sleep like a lamb with a smile on your face . . .
I hope you have a perfect end to the perfect day
and I hope that every day is just as wonderful in its own way
I hope your day is . . . filled with love!
By Author Unknown
I hope you woke up this morning with a big smile on your face
I hope the sun is shining just for you
and the birds are singing their very best songs . . .
I hope your coffee is hot and tastes just right
and the cats are purring contentedly, and the mailman waves a
cheery hello and there are no bills in the mailbox . . .
I hope just everything goes your way . . .
I hope everything is well with your world,
a place for everything and everything in its place . . .
I hope you can enjoy all you do and you are
complimented on the way
you look and you can laugh
and talk and share to your heart’s content
I hope you have all you wish for yourself and those dear to you,
and all your dreams come true . . .
At the end of the day
I wish you a perfect moon shining just for you,
a snug and cozy bed with the softest of pillows
and I hope you sleep like a lamb with a smile on your face . . .
I hope you have a perfect end to the perfect day
and I hope that every day is just as wonderful in its own way
I hope your day is . . . filled with love!
By Author Unknown
Myosotis sylvatica, commonly known as Wood Forget-Me-Nots or Woodland Forget-Me-Nots or simply Forget-Me-Nots
A Daily Inventory
Did I stop to smell the flowers,
And appreciate the small things along the way
Did I look for the good in people,
That I met along the way?
Did I see the beauty in God’s creation,
As in the thing created by man,
Did I count each day the blessings,
In my life since it began?
Did I listen with caring and compassion,
And walk in another’s shoes,
Did I offer a shoulder to lean on,
Did I practice the Golden Rule?
Did I kill my anger in its early stages
Before it had time to sprout,
And grow to its full maturity,
Where love is crowded out?
Did I blindfold my eyes from Life’s sunshine,
To avoid the pain that comes from Life’s nights,
To only live in the ugliness of darkness,
Never to see the beauty of morning’s light?
Did I let my heart seek vision and purpose,
When I was lonely and filled with fear,
Did I stop and ask God for directions,
Did I give hurt time-out for tears?
Did I practice the words, “I’m Sorry,”
And try to correct wrongs to make them right,
Did I forgive the ones who’ve hurt me,
Before I fall asleep at night?
By Mildred Bettag
Did I stop to smell the flowers,
And appreciate the small things along the way
Did I look for the good in people,
That I met along the way?
Did I see the beauty in God’s creation,
As in the thing created by man,
Did I count each day the blessings,
In my life since it began?
Did I listen with caring and compassion,
And walk in another’s shoes,
Did I offer a shoulder to lean on,
Did I practice the Golden Rule?
Did I kill my anger in its early stages
Before it had time to sprout,
And grow to its full maturity,
Where love is crowded out?
Did I blindfold my eyes from Life’s sunshine,
To avoid the pain that comes from Life’s nights,
To only live in the ugliness of darkness,
Never to see the beauty of morning’s light?
Did I let my heart seek vision and purpose,
When I was lonely and filled with fear,
Did I stop and ask God for directions,
Did I give hurt time-out for tears?
Did I practice the words, “I’m Sorry,”
And try to correct wrongs to make them right,
Did I forgive the ones who’ve hurt me,
Before I fall asleep at night?
By Mildred Bettag
Youth
Youth is not a time of life - it is a state of mind. It is not a matter of red cheeks, red lips, and supple knees. It is a temper of the will; a quality of the imagination; a vigor of the emotions; it is a freshness of the deep springs of life. Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over a life of ease. This often exists in a man of fifty, more than in a boy of twenty. Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years; people grow old by deserting their ideals.
Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear and despair - these are the long, long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to dust.
Whether seventy or sixteen, there is in every being’s heart a love of wonder; the sweet amazement at the stars and starlike things and thoughts; the undaunted challenge of events, the unfailing childlike appetite for what comes next, and the joy in the game of life.
You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear, as young as your hope, as old as your despair.
In the central place of your heart there is a wireless station. So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, grandeur, courage, and power from the earth, from men and from the Infinite - so long are you young. When the wires are all down and the central places of your heart are covered with the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism, then are you grown old, indeed!
By Samuel Ullman: ‘Youth’ as published in Jane Manner: “The Silver Treasury: “Prose and Verse for Every Mood” (1934), pages 323 and 324
Samuel Ullman was born on 13 April 1840 in Hechingen, Hohenzollern, Germany. In 1851, he immigrated with his family to the United States of America. He became a shopkeeper, a member of the Birmingham board of education, a president and lay rabbi at Temple Emanu-El in Birmingham, an essayist, and a poet. Samuel Ullman passed on at 83 years of age on 21 March 1924 in Birmingham, Alabama, United States of America.
Youth is not a time of life - it is a state of mind. It is not a matter of red cheeks, red lips, and supple knees. It is a temper of the will; a quality of the imagination; a vigor of the emotions; it is a freshness of the deep springs of life. Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over a life of ease. This often exists in a man of fifty, more than in a boy of twenty. Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years; people grow old by deserting their ideals.
Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear and despair - these are the long, long years that bow the head and turn the growing spirit back to dust.
Whether seventy or sixteen, there is in every being’s heart a love of wonder; the sweet amazement at the stars and starlike things and thoughts; the undaunted challenge of events, the unfailing childlike appetite for what comes next, and the joy in the game of life.
You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear, as young as your hope, as old as your despair.
In the central place of your heart there is a wireless station. So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, grandeur, courage, and power from the earth, from men and from the Infinite - so long are you young. When the wires are all down and the central places of your heart are covered with the snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism, then are you grown old, indeed!
By Samuel Ullman: ‘Youth’ as published in Jane Manner: “The Silver Treasury: “Prose and Verse for Every Mood” (1934), pages 323 and 324
Samuel Ullman was born on 13 April 1840 in Hechingen, Hohenzollern, Germany. In 1851, he immigrated with his family to the United States of America. He became a shopkeeper, a member of the Birmingham board of education, a president and lay rabbi at Temple Emanu-El in Birmingham, an essayist, and a poet. Samuel Ullman passed on at 83 years of age on 21 March 1924 in Birmingham, Alabama, United States of America.
Dust If You Must
Dust if you must, but wouldn’t it be better,
To paint a picture or write a letter,
Bake a cake or plant a seed,
Ponder the difference between want and need?
Dust if you must, but there’s not much time,
With rivers to swim and mountains to climb,
Music to hear and books to read,
Friends to cherish and life to lead.
Dust if you must, but the world’s out there
With the sun in your eyes, the wind in your hair,
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain.
This day will not come ’round again.
Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it’s not always kind.
And when you go and go you must,
You, yourself, will make more dust.
By Rose Milligan (15 September 1998)
Mrs. Rose Milligan resided in Lancaster, Lancashire, England when she wrote the above poem.
Dust if you must, but wouldn’t it be better,
To paint a picture or write a letter,
Bake a cake or plant a seed,
Ponder the difference between want and need?
Dust if you must, but there’s not much time,
With rivers to swim and mountains to climb,
Music to hear and books to read,
Friends to cherish and life to lead.
Dust if you must, but the world’s out there
With the sun in your eyes, the wind in your hair,
A flutter of snow, a shower of rain.
This day will not come ’round again.
Dust if you must, but bear in mind,
Old age will come and it’s not always kind.
And when you go and go you must,
You, yourself, will make more dust.
By Rose Milligan (15 September 1998)
Mrs. Rose Milligan resided in Lancaster, Lancashire, England when she wrote the above poem.
The Bridge Builder
An old man, going down a lone highway,
Came at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast and deep and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim -
That sullen stream had no fears for him;
But he turned, when he reached the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.
“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim near,
“You are wasting strength in building here.
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again must pass this way.
You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide,
Why build you the bridge at the eventide?”
The builder lifted his old gray head.
“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
“There followeth after me today
A youth whose feet must pass this way.
This chasm that has been naught to me
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for him.
By Will Allen Dromgoole
William Allen ‘Will’ Dromgoole was born on 26 October 1860 in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, United States of America. She became a writer and a poet. She wrote more than 5,000 essays and more than 7,500 poems, and had 13 books published. She was the first woman officer in the United States Navy, and organized the Women’s Press Club of Waco. She taught school for a year in Tennessee and for a year in Temple, Texas. She is known for her novel, “The Island of the Beautiful” (1911), among other works. William Allen ‘Will’ Dromgoole passed on at 73 years of age on 1 September 1934 in Nashville, Tennessee, United States of America.
An old man, going down a lone highway,
Came at the evening, cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast and deep and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim -
That sullen stream had no fears for him;
But he turned, when he reached the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.
“Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim near,
“You are wasting strength in building here.
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again must pass this way.
You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide,
Why build you the bridge at the eventide?”
The builder lifted his old gray head.
“Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
“There followeth after me today
A youth whose feet must pass this way.
This chasm that has been naught to me
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for him.
By Will Allen Dromgoole
William Allen ‘Will’ Dromgoole was born on 26 October 1860 in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, United States of America. She became a writer and a poet. She wrote more than 5,000 essays and more than 7,500 poems, and had 13 books published. She was the first woman officer in the United States Navy, and organized the Women’s Press Club of Waco. She taught school for a year in Tennessee and for a year in Temple, Texas. She is known for her novel, “The Island of the Beautiful” (1911), among other works. William Allen ‘Will’ Dromgoole passed on at 73 years of age on 1 September 1934 in Nashville, Tennessee, United States of America.
Thinking
If you think you are beaten, you are
If you think you dare not, you don’t,
If you like to win, but you think you can’t
It is almost certain you won’t.
If you think you’ll lose, you’re lost
For out of the world we find,
Success begins with a fellow’s will
It’s all in the state of mind.
If you think you are outclassed, you are
You’ve got to think high to rise,
You’ve got to be sure of yourself before
You can ever win a prize.
Life’s battles don’t always go
To the stronger or faster man,
But soon or late the man who wins
Is the man who think he can!
By Walter D. Wintle: as published in the college magazine “Unity” (1905), a publication of the Unity Tract Society of the Unity School of Christianity
If you think you are beaten, you are
If you think you dare not, you don’t,
If you like to win, but you think you can’t
It is almost certain you won’t.
If you think you’ll lose, you’re lost
For out of the world we find,
Success begins with a fellow’s will
It’s all in the state of mind.
If you think you are outclassed, you are
You’ve got to think high to rise,
You’ve got to be sure of yourself before
You can ever win a prize.
Life’s battles don’t always go
To the stronger or faster man,
But soon or late the man who wins
Is the man who think he can!
By Walter D. Wintle: as published in the college magazine “Unity” (1905), a publication of the Unity Tract Society of the Unity School of Christianity
Along The Way
The things I saw along the way
Were all that made the day a day.
I started out with mighty dreams
I set about my hopes and schemes.
And yet a rose upon a stem
Had not a thing to do with them.
I saw some youngsters playing ball.
That wasn’t part of it at all.
I even heard a bobolink
Or some such bird as that, I think.
Although my schemes said not a thing
About the way a bird can sing.
And I suspect, in fact I know
With life itself I’ll find it so,
That when it ends what I’ll recall
Is flowers and friends - not schemes at all.
I’ll find the things that made life’s day
Were little things along the way.
By Douglas Malloch
Douglas Malloch, Senior was born on 5 May 1877 in Muskegon, Michigan, United States of America. He grew up in the midst of logging camps, sawmills, and lumber yards. He became enamored with writing poems and stories about lumbering scenes and eventually became known as the ‘Lumbermen’s Poet.’ He wrote his first poem at 10 years of age, which was published in the “Detroit News.” After leaving school, he took a job on the editorial staff at the “Muskegon Chronicle,” where he remained for 13 years, becoming a reporter and feature writer for the paper. After leaving the “Muskegon Chronicle,” he joined the staff of the “American Lumberman” in 1903 as a syndicated columnist. Mr. Malloch soon became a popular and nationally renowned humorist, lecturer, and radio personality. His column was often written in the form of a poem and eventually the poems were collected into a series of books with “In Forest Land” (1906) being his first published work and a national best seller. Douglas Malloch, Senior passed on at 61 years of age on 2 July 1938 in Muskegon, Michigan, United States of America.
The things I saw along the way
Were all that made the day a day.
I started out with mighty dreams
I set about my hopes and schemes.
And yet a rose upon a stem
Had not a thing to do with them.
I saw some youngsters playing ball.
That wasn’t part of it at all.
I even heard a bobolink
Or some such bird as that, I think.
Although my schemes said not a thing
About the way a bird can sing.
And I suspect, in fact I know
With life itself I’ll find it so,
That when it ends what I’ll recall
Is flowers and friends - not schemes at all.
I’ll find the things that made life’s day
Were little things along the way.
By Douglas Malloch
Douglas Malloch, Senior was born on 5 May 1877 in Muskegon, Michigan, United States of America. He grew up in the midst of logging camps, sawmills, and lumber yards. He became enamored with writing poems and stories about lumbering scenes and eventually became known as the ‘Lumbermen’s Poet.’ He wrote his first poem at 10 years of age, which was published in the “Detroit News.” After leaving school, he took a job on the editorial staff at the “Muskegon Chronicle,” where he remained for 13 years, becoming a reporter and feature writer for the paper. After leaving the “Muskegon Chronicle,” he joined the staff of the “American Lumberman” in 1903 as a syndicated columnist. Mr. Malloch soon became a popular and nationally renowned humorist, lecturer, and radio personality. His column was often written in the form of a poem and eventually the poems were collected into a series of books with “In Forest Land” (1906) being his first published work and a national best seller. Douglas Malloch, Senior passed on at 61 years of age on 2 July 1938 in Muskegon, Michigan, United States of America.
Words Of Orison S. Marden
If you have had an unfortunate experience, forget it. If you have made a failure in speech, your song, your book, your article, if you have been placed in an embarrassing position, if you have fallen and hurt yourself by a false step, if you have been slandered and abused, do not dwell upon it. There is not a single redeeming feature in these memories, and the presence of their ghosts will rob you of many a happy hour. There is nothing in it. Drop them. Forget them. Wipe them out of your mind forever. If you have been indiscreet, imprudent, if you have been talked about, if your reputation has been injured so that you fear you can never outgrow it or redeem it, do not drag the hideous shadows, the rattling skeletons about with you, Rub them off from the shite of memory. Wipe them out. Forget them. Start with a clean slate and spend all your energies in keeping it clean for the future.
By Orison S. Marden: “Masterful Personality” (1923)
Orison Swett Marden was born on 11 June 1848 in Thornton Gore, New Hampshire, United States of America. Despite having become an orphan at 7 years of age and having lived with several different guardians, he went on to achieve degrees in Medicine and Law at Harvard University. He became an inspirational writer and an editor. He wrote about how to achieve success in life, discussing common-sense principles and virtues that make for a well-rounded life. Many of his ideas are in support of the New Thought philosophy. He is known as the founder of “Success” magazine. Orison Swett Marden passed on at 75 years of age on 10 March 1924.
If you have had an unfortunate experience, forget it. If you have made a failure in speech, your song, your book, your article, if you have been placed in an embarrassing position, if you have fallen and hurt yourself by a false step, if you have been slandered and abused, do not dwell upon it. There is not a single redeeming feature in these memories, and the presence of their ghosts will rob you of many a happy hour. There is nothing in it. Drop them. Forget them. Wipe them out of your mind forever. If you have been indiscreet, imprudent, if you have been talked about, if your reputation has been injured so that you fear you can never outgrow it or redeem it, do not drag the hideous shadows, the rattling skeletons about with you, Rub them off from the shite of memory. Wipe them out. Forget them. Start with a clean slate and spend all your energies in keeping it clean for the future.
By Orison S. Marden: “Masterful Personality” (1923)
Orison Swett Marden was born on 11 June 1848 in Thornton Gore, New Hampshire, United States of America. Despite having become an orphan at 7 years of age and having lived with several different guardians, he went on to achieve degrees in Medicine and Law at Harvard University. He became an inspirational writer and an editor. He wrote about how to achieve success in life, discussing common-sense principles and virtues that make for a well-rounded life. Many of his ideas are in support of the New Thought philosophy. He is known as the founder of “Success” magazine. Orison Swett Marden passed on at 75 years of age on 10 March 1924.
Life’s Mirror
There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,
There are souls that are pure and true;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.
Give love, and love to your life will flow,
A strength in your utmost need;
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show
Their faith in your work and deed.
Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind,
And honor will honor meet;
And the smile which is sweet will surely find
A smile that is just as sweet.
Give sorrow and pity to those who mourn;
You will gather in flowers again
The scattered seeds from your thought outborne
Though the sowing seemed but vain.
For life is the mirror of king and slave,
’Tis just what we are and do;
Then give to the world the best you have
And the best will come back to you.
By Madeline S. Bridges
The above poem is sometimes summarized and paraphrased as:
“Give the world the best you have and the best will come back to you.” -Madeline Bridges (1844 - 1920)
Madeline S. Bridges is a pseudonym of Mary Ainge De Vere, who was born in 1844 in Brooklyn, New York, United States of America. She was the daughter of Thomas Ainge and Margaret (McIntyre) De Vyr, both of whom were natives of Donegal, Ireland before immigrating to America. Her father was a newspaper owner and editor in New York. She had her first poem published in a New York daily newspaper at 14 years of age. Her verses appeared in magazines including “Littell’s Living Age,” “The Century,” “Harper’s,” “Frank Leslie’s,” and “Lippincott’s.” She was a humorist and her squibs, jokes, dialogues, and light verse were published in “Puck,” “Life,” “Judge,” and the humor columns of nearly all American periodicals of the time. Her best-known serious poems include “The Quiet House,” “The Brook,” “Life’s Mirror,” “We Two,” and “Good-bye, Sweetheart.” At about 26 years of age in 1870, she had a collection of poems titled “Love Songs and Other Poems” published, and at about 59 years of age in 1903, she had a collection of poems titled, “The Wind-Swept Wheat” published. Mary Ainge De Vere resided in Brooklyn, New York, United States of America her whole life, and passed on at about 76 years of age on 6 August 1920.
There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,
There are souls that are pure and true;
Then give to the world the best you have,
And the best will come back to you.
Give love, and love to your life will flow,
A strength in your utmost need;
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show
Their faith in your work and deed.
Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind,
And honor will honor meet;
And the smile which is sweet will surely find
A smile that is just as sweet.
Give sorrow and pity to those who mourn;
You will gather in flowers again
The scattered seeds from your thought outborne
Though the sowing seemed but vain.
For life is the mirror of king and slave,
’Tis just what we are and do;
Then give to the world the best you have
And the best will come back to you.
By Madeline S. Bridges
The above poem is sometimes summarized and paraphrased as:
“Give the world the best you have and the best will come back to you.” -Madeline Bridges (1844 - 1920)
Madeline S. Bridges is a pseudonym of Mary Ainge De Vere, who was born in 1844 in Brooklyn, New York, United States of America. She was the daughter of Thomas Ainge and Margaret (McIntyre) De Vyr, both of whom were natives of Donegal, Ireland before immigrating to America. Her father was a newspaper owner and editor in New York. She had her first poem published in a New York daily newspaper at 14 years of age. Her verses appeared in magazines including “Littell’s Living Age,” “The Century,” “Harper’s,” “Frank Leslie’s,” and “Lippincott’s.” She was a humorist and her squibs, jokes, dialogues, and light verse were published in “Puck,” “Life,” “Judge,” and the humor columns of nearly all American periodicals of the time. Her best-known serious poems include “The Quiet House,” “The Brook,” “Life’s Mirror,” “We Two,” and “Good-bye, Sweetheart.” At about 26 years of age in 1870, she had a collection of poems titled “Love Songs and Other Poems” published, and at about 59 years of age in 1903, she had a collection of poems titled, “The Wind-Swept Wheat” published. Mary Ainge De Vere resided in Brooklyn, New York, United States of America her whole life, and passed on at about 76 years of age on 6 August 1920.
Start Where You Stand
Start where you stand and never mind the past,
The past won’t help you in beginning new,
If you have left it all behind at last
Why, that’s enough, you’re done with it, you’re through;
This is another chapter in the book,
This is another race that you have planned,
Don’t give the vanished days a backward look,
Start where you stand.
The world won’t care about your old defeats
If you can start anew and win success;
The future is your time, and time is fleet
And there is much of work and strain and stress;
Forget the buried woes and dead despairs,
Here is a brand-new trial right at hand,
The future is for him who does and dares,
Start where you stand.
Old failures will not halt, old triumphs aid,
To-day’s the thing, to-morrow soon will be;
Get in the fight and face it unafraid,
And leave the past to ancient history,
What has been, has been; yesterday is dead
And by it you are neither blessed nor banned;
Take courage, man, be brave and drive ahead,
Start where you stand.
By Berton Braley
Berton Braley was born on 29 January 1882 in Madison, Wisconsin, United States of America. He became a local newspaper reporter in Butte, Montana and in New York City, New York. He later worked as an international correspondent in Europe and Asia for several newspapers and magazines. During his lifetime, he was a well-known writer and poet. Berton Braley passed on at 83 years of age on 23 January 1966 in Saint Petersburg, Florida, United States of America.
Start where you stand and never mind the past,
The past won’t help you in beginning new,
If you have left it all behind at last
Why, that’s enough, you’re done with it, you’re through;
This is another chapter in the book,
This is another race that you have planned,
Don’t give the vanished days a backward look,
Start where you stand.
The world won’t care about your old defeats
If you can start anew and win success;
The future is your time, and time is fleet
And there is much of work and strain and stress;
Forget the buried woes and dead despairs,
Here is a brand-new trial right at hand,
The future is for him who does and dares,
Start where you stand.
Old failures will not halt, old triumphs aid,
To-day’s the thing, to-morrow soon will be;
Get in the fight and face it unafraid,
And leave the past to ancient history,
What has been, has been; yesterday is dead
And by it you are neither blessed nor banned;
Take courage, man, be brave and drive ahead,
Start where you stand.
By Berton Braley
Berton Braley was born on 29 January 1882 in Madison, Wisconsin, United States of America. He became a local newspaper reporter in Butte, Montana and in New York City, New York. He later worked as an international correspondent in Europe and Asia for several newspapers and magazines. During his lifetime, he was a well-known writer and poet. Berton Braley passed on at 83 years of age on 23 January 1966 in Saint Petersburg, Florida, United States of America.
You Never Know
You never know when someone
might catch a dream from you.
Or something you say
may open up the windows
of a mind that seeks light;
The way you live may not matter at all,
But you never know, it might.
And just in case it could be
that another’s life, through you,
might possibly change for the better
with a better and brighter view,
it seems it might be worth a try
at pointing the way to the right;
Of course, it may not matter at all,
but then again, it might.
By Author Unknown
You never know when someone
might catch a dream from you.
Or something you say
may open up the windows
of a mind that seeks light;
The way you live may not matter at all,
But you never know, it might.
And just in case it could be
that another’s life, through you,
might possibly change for the better
with a better and brighter view,
it seems it might be worth a try
at pointing the way to the right;
Of course, it may not matter at all,
but then again, it might.
By Author Unknown
What Kind of Day Shall I Choose Today?
Today I can complain about my health,
Or I can celebrate being alive.
Today I can moan that it is raining,
Or be joyful at all that grows from the rain.
Today I can regret all I don’t have,
Or rejoice in everything I do.
Today I can mourn everything I have lost,
Or eagerly anticipate what’s to come.
Today I can complain that I have to work,
Or celebrate having a job to go to.
Today I can resent the mess the kids make,
Or give thanks that I have a family.
Today I can whine about the housework,
Or celebrate having a home.
Today I can cry over those who don’t care for me,
Or be happy loving and being loved by those who do.
I choose to have a good day!
By Author Unknown
Today I can complain about my health,
Or I can celebrate being alive.
Today I can moan that it is raining,
Or be joyful at all that grows from the rain.
Today I can regret all I don’t have,
Or rejoice in everything I do.
Today I can mourn everything I have lost,
Or eagerly anticipate what’s to come.
Today I can complain that I have to work,
Or celebrate having a job to go to.
Today I can resent the mess the kids make,
Or give thanks that I have a family.
Today I can whine about the housework,
Or celebrate having a home.
Today I can cry over those who don’t care for me,
Or be happy loving and being loved by those who do.
I choose to have a good day!
By Author Unknown
Success
Success is speaking words of praise,
In cheering other people’s ways,
In doing just the best you can,
With every task and every plan,
It’s silence when your speech would hurt,
Politeness when your neighbor’s curt,
It’s deafness when the scandal flows,
And sympathy with others’ woes,
It’s loyalty when duty calls,
It’s courage when disaster falls,
It’s patience when the hours are long,
It’s found in laughter and in song,
It’s in the silent time of prayer,
In happiness and in despair,
In all of life and nothing less,
We find the thing we call success.
By Author Unknown
Success is speaking words of praise,
In cheering other people’s ways,
In doing just the best you can,
With every task and every plan,
It’s silence when your speech would hurt,
Politeness when your neighbor’s curt,
It’s deafness when the scandal flows,
And sympathy with others’ woes,
It’s loyalty when duty calls,
It’s courage when disaster falls,
It’s patience when the hours are long,
It’s found in laughter and in song,
It’s in the silent time of prayer,
In happiness and in despair,
In all of life and nothing less,
We find the thing we call success.
By Author Unknown
As I Go On My Way
My life shall touch a dozen lives before this day is done
Leave countless marks for good or ill ere¹ sets this evening sun.
Shall fair or foul its imprint prove, on those my life shall hail?
Shall blessing my impress be, or shall a blight prevail?
When to the last great reckoning the lives I meet must go,
Shall this ever, fleeting touch of mine have added joy or woe?
Shall He who looks their records o’er² - of name and time and place
Say ‘Here a blessed influence came’ or ‘Here is evil’s trace’?
From out each point of contact of my life with other lives
Flows ever that which helps the one who for the summit strives,
The troubled souls encountered - does it sweeten with its touch,
Or does it more embitter those embittered overmuch?
Does love in every handclasp flow in sympathy’s caress?
Do those that I have greeted know a newborn hopefulness?
Are tolerance and charity the keynote of my song
As I go plodding onward with earth’s eager, anxious throng?
My life shall touch a million lives in some way ere¹ I go
From this dear world of struggle to the land I do not know.
So this the wish I always wish, the prayer I ever pray:
Let my life help the other lives it touches by the way.
By Strickland Gillilan
¹ere: before.
²o’er: over.
A shorter version of the poem also exists, as follows.
My Influence
My life shall touch a dozen lives
Before this day is done,
Leave countless marks of good or ill,
E’er sets the evening sun.
This, the wish I always wish,
The prayer I always pray;
Lord, may my life help others lives,
It touches by the way.
By Strickland Gillilan
Click or tap on the following title to go to the article.
Strickland Gillilan Biography Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont
My life shall touch a dozen lives before this day is done
Leave countless marks for good or ill ere¹ sets this evening sun.
Shall fair or foul its imprint prove, on those my life shall hail?
Shall blessing my impress be, or shall a blight prevail?
When to the last great reckoning the lives I meet must go,
Shall this ever, fleeting touch of mine have added joy or woe?
Shall He who looks their records o’er² - of name and time and place
Say ‘Here a blessed influence came’ or ‘Here is evil’s trace’?
From out each point of contact of my life with other lives
Flows ever that which helps the one who for the summit strives,
The troubled souls encountered - does it sweeten with its touch,
Or does it more embitter those embittered overmuch?
Does love in every handclasp flow in sympathy’s caress?
Do those that I have greeted know a newborn hopefulness?
Are tolerance and charity the keynote of my song
As I go plodding onward with earth’s eager, anxious throng?
My life shall touch a million lives in some way ere¹ I go
From this dear world of struggle to the land I do not know.
So this the wish I always wish, the prayer I ever pray:
Let my life help the other lives it touches by the way.
By Strickland Gillilan
¹ere: before.
²o’er: over.
A shorter version of the poem also exists, as follows.
My Influence
My life shall touch a dozen lives
Before this day is done,
Leave countless marks of good or ill,
E’er sets the evening sun.
This, the wish I always wish,
The prayer I always pray;
Lord, may my life help others lives,
It touches by the way.
By Strickland Gillilan
Click or tap on the following title to go to the article.
Strickland Gillilan Biography Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont
Rules For Better Living
Always wear sensible shoes.
Watch the sunrise at least once a year.
Be the first to say, “Hello.”
Live beneath your means.
Treat everyone like you want to be treated.
Never give up on anybody.
Miracles happen.
Never deprive someone of hope. It may be all they have.
Pray not for things, but for wisdom and courage.
Don’t forget, a person’s greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated.
Keep your promises.
Learn to show cheerfulness, even when you don’t feel like it.
Remember that overnight success usually takes years to attain.
Leave everything better than you found it.
Remember that winners are those who do what losers don’t want to do.
When you arrive at your job in the morning, let the first thing you say brighten everyone’s day.
Don’t rain on other people’s parades.
Never waste an opportunity to tell someone that you love them.
Said hello to a random stranger. Some people might give you a weird look, but you never know when you’re missing out on meeting someone amazing because of words unspoken.
by Author Unknown
Always wear sensible shoes.
Watch the sunrise at least once a year.
Be the first to say, “Hello.”
Live beneath your means.
Treat everyone like you want to be treated.
Never give up on anybody.
Miracles happen.
Never deprive someone of hope. It may be all they have.
Pray not for things, but for wisdom and courage.
Don’t forget, a person’s greatest emotional need is to feel appreciated.
Keep your promises.
Learn to show cheerfulness, even when you don’t feel like it.
Remember that overnight success usually takes years to attain.
Leave everything better than you found it.
Remember that winners are those who do what losers don’t want to do.
When you arrive at your job in the morning, let the first thing you say brighten everyone’s day.
Don’t rain on other people’s parades.
Never waste an opportunity to tell someone that you love them.
Said hello to a random stranger. Some people might give you a weird look, but you never know when you’re missing out on meeting someone amazing because of words unspoken.
by Author Unknown
Opportunity
This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream: -
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince’s banner
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
A craven hung along the battle’s edge,
And thought, “Had I a sword of keener steel -
That blue blade that the king’s son bears, - but this
Blunt thing!” he snapped and flung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.
Then came the king’s son, wounded, sore bestead,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.
By Edward Rowland Sill
Edward Rowland Sill was born on 29 April 1841 in Windsor, Connecticut, United States of America. He graduated from Yale in 1861, studied biology at Harvard, did literary work in New York City, taught school in California and Ohio, and was for eight years professor of English language and literature at the University of California. His poems were privately printed under the title, “The Hermitage and Other Poems” (1868) and in other works. Edward Rowland Sill passed on at 45 years of age on 27 February 1887 in Cleveland, Ohio, United States of America.
This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream: -
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince’s banner
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
A craven hung along the battle’s edge,
And thought, “Had I a sword of keener steel -
That blue blade that the king’s son bears, - but this
Blunt thing!” he snapped and flung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.
Then came the king’s son, wounded, sore bestead,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.
By Edward Rowland Sill
Edward Rowland Sill was born on 29 April 1841 in Windsor, Connecticut, United States of America. He graduated from Yale in 1861, studied biology at Harvard, did literary work in New York City, taught school in California and Ohio, and was for eight years professor of English language and literature at the University of California. His poems were privately printed under the title, “The Hermitage and Other Poems” (1868) and in other works. Edward Rowland Sill passed on at 45 years of age on 27 February 1887 in Cleveland, Ohio, United States of America.
Live . . . Laugh . . . And Love
Live well dear friends
In all you do,
Tho’ paths be old
Or paths be new,
But to yourself
Be ever true,
Live well!
Laugh often friends
Tho’ passing years
Bring, sometimes, smiles
And, sometimes, tears,
For mirth forever
Warms and cheers
Laugh often!
Love much dear friends
For love will bring
The healing joy
And hope of Spring,
Where pain and fear may never dwell
Nor anguish touch . . .
And so Live well,
Laugh often too,
And more, dear friends,
Love much!
By John McLeod
Live well dear friends
In all you do,
Tho’ paths be old
Or paths be new,
But to yourself
Be ever true,
Live well!
Laugh often friends
Tho’ passing years
Bring, sometimes, smiles
And, sometimes, tears,
For mirth forever
Warms and cheers
Laugh often!
Love much dear friends
For love will bring
The healing joy
And hope of Spring,
Where pain and fear may never dwell
Nor anguish touch . . .
And so Live well,
Laugh often too,
And more, dear friends,
Love much!
By John McLeod
Who Really Matters?
You do not actually have to answer the questions in the following quiz. Just read them, and you will understand the point.
1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America contest.
4. Name ten people who have won a Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half-dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade’s worth of World Series winners.
How did you do? The point is that few of us remember the headliners of yesterday, though they are no second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields, but the applause fades and the awards tarnish. Their achievements seem important for a brief moment, but they are forgotten in time.
Here is another quiz. See how you do on this one.
1. List a few teachers who aided you on your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people with whom you enjoy spending time.
6. Name half a dozen heroes whose stories have inspired you.
Was the second quiz surprisingly easier?
The lesson is that the people who made a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. The people who matter are the ones who care. Now as for you, have you shown others that you care so that you will be remembered?
By Author Unknown
You do not actually have to answer the questions in the following quiz. Just read them, and you will understand the point.
1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.
2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.
3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America contest.
4. Name ten people who have won a Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.
5. Name the last half-dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.
6. Name the last decade’s worth of World Series winners.
How did you do? The point is that few of us remember the headliners of yesterday, though they are no second-rate achievers. They are the best in their fields, but the applause fades and the awards tarnish. Their achievements seem important for a brief moment, but they are forgotten in time.
Here is another quiz. See how you do on this one.
1. List a few teachers who aided you on your journey through school.
2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.
3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.
4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.
5. Think of five people with whom you enjoy spending time.
6. Name half a dozen heroes whose stories have inspired you.
Was the second quiz surprisingly easier?
The lesson is that the people who made a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money, or the most awards. The people who matter are the ones who care. Now as for you, have you shown others that you care so that you will be remembered?
By Author Unknown
Influence
Drop a pebble in the water,
And its ripples reach out far;
And the sunbeams dancing on them
May reflect them to a star.
Give a smile to someone passing,
Thereby making his morning glad;
It may greet you in the evening
When you own heart may be sad.
Do a deed of simple kindness;
Through its end you may not see,
It may reach, like widening ripples,
Down a long eternity.
By Joseph Norris
Drop a pebble in the water,
And its ripples reach out far;
And the sunbeams dancing on them
May reflect them to a star.
Give a smile to someone passing,
Thereby making his morning glad;
It may greet you in the evening
When you own heart may be sad.
Do a deed of simple kindness;
Through its end you may not see,
It may reach, like widening ripples,
Down a long eternity.
By Joseph Norris
Try Smiling
When the weather suits you not,
Try smiling.
When your coffee isn’t hot,
Try smiling.
When your neighbors don’t do right,
Or your relatives all fight,
Sure ’tis hard, but then you might
Try smiling.
Doesn’t change the things, of course -
Just smiling.
But it cannot make them worse -
Just smiling.
And it seems to help your case,
Brightens up a gloomy place,
Then, it sort o’ rests your face -
Just smiling.
By Clarence L. Burgderfer: “The Man with the Smile Worthwhile” (1909); type of work: brochure
Clarence Lewis Burgderfer was born on 5 December 1878 in Carson City, Michigan, United States of America. He was married to Mabel Martin in September 1899. Mr. Burgderfer became an entertainer, a humorist, and a storyteller. Clarence Lewis Burgderfer passed on at 74 years of age on 29 June 1953.
When the weather suits you not,
Try smiling.
When your coffee isn’t hot,
Try smiling.
When your neighbors don’t do right,
Or your relatives all fight,
Sure ’tis hard, but then you might
Try smiling.
Doesn’t change the things, of course -
Just smiling.
But it cannot make them worse -
Just smiling.
And it seems to help your case,
Brightens up a gloomy place,
Then, it sort o’ rests your face -
Just smiling.
By Clarence L. Burgderfer: “The Man with the Smile Worthwhile” (1909); type of work: brochure
Clarence Lewis Burgderfer was born on 5 December 1878 in Carson City, Michigan, United States of America. He was married to Mabel Martin in September 1899. Mr. Burgderfer became an entertainer, a humorist, and a storyteller. Clarence Lewis Burgderfer passed on at 74 years of age on 29 June 1953.
Suppose
Suppose your mind a garden were,
All ready for the spring,
And everything you planted there
Would soon be blossoming.
Suppose that evil thoughts were weeds
That rankly grew apace,
And every dream of selfish deeds
Should blossom in disgrace;
While every impulse to be kind,
To ease some other’s woes.
Should bud and blossom in your mind
A fair and fragrant rose.
Suppose that every idle whim.
And every thought of scorn.
Should find its fruitage in a grim
And poison-laden thorn;
While every purpose to uplift
Your soul from sordid ways
Should burst into a snow-white drift
Of tender lily-sprays.
’Tis surely with no danger fraught
Supposing things like this -
And maybe here’s a seed of thought
To flower forth in bliss.
by John Kendrick Bangs: “Songs of Cheer” (1910); type of work: collected poems by a single author in book form
John Kendrick Bangs was born on 27 May 1862 in Yonkers, New York, United States of America. He became a writer, a satirist, an editor, and a lecturer. John Kendrick Bangs passed on at 59 years of age on 21 January 1922 in Atlantic City, New Jersey, United States of America.
Suppose your mind a garden were,
All ready for the spring,
And everything you planted there
Would soon be blossoming.
Suppose that evil thoughts were weeds
That rankly grew apace,
And every dream of selfish deeds
Should blossom in disgrace;
While every impulse to be kind,
To ease some other’s woes.
Should bud and blossom in your mind
A fair and fragrant rose.
Suppose that every idle whim.
And every thought of scorn.
Should find its fruitage in a grim
And poison-laden thorn;
While every purpose to uplift
Your soul from sordid ways
Should burst into a snow-white drift
Of tender lily-sprays.
’Tis surely with no danger fraught
Supposing things like this -
And maybe here’s a seed of thought
To flower forth in bliss.
by John Kendrick Bangs: “Songs of Cheer” (1910); type of work: collected poems by a single author in book form
John Kendrick Bangs was born on 27 May 1862 in Yonkers, New York, United States of America. He became a writer, a satirist, an editor, and a lecturer. John Kendrick Bangs passed on at 59 years of age on 21 January 1922 in Atlantic City, New Jersey, United States of America.
Persevere
The fisher who draws in his net too soon,
Won’t have any fish to sell;
The child who shuts up his book too soon,
Won’t learn any lessons well.
If you would have your learning stay,
Be patient, - stick with it and hold fast:
The man who travels a mile each day,
May get round the world at last.
By Author Unknown
The fisher who draws in his net too soon,
Won’t have any fish to sell;
The child who shuts up his book too soon,
Won’t learn any lessons well.
If you would have your learning stay,
Be patient, - stick with it and hold fast:
The man who travels a mile each day,
May get round the world at last.
By Author Unknown
Steps To Happiness
Everybody Knows:
You can’t be all things to all people.
You can’t do all things at once.
You can’t do all things equally well.
You can’t do all things better than everyone else.
Your humanity is showing just like everyone else’s.
So:
You have to find out who you are, and be that.
You have to decide what comes first, and do that.
You have to discover your strengths, and use them.
You have to learn not to compete with others,
Because no one else is in the contest of ‘being you.’
Then:
You will have learned to accept your own uniqueness.
You will have learned to set priorities and make decisions.
You will have learned to live with your limitations.
You will have learned to give yourself the respect that is due.
And you’ll be a most vital mortal.
Dare To Believe:
That you are a wonderful, unique person.
That you are a once-in-all-history event.
That it’s more than a right, it’s your duty, to be who you are.
That life is not a problem to solve, but a gift to cherish.
And you’ll be able to stay one up on what used to get you down.
By Author Unknown
Everybody Knows:
You can’t be all things to all people.
You can’t do all things at once.
You can’t do all things equally well.
You can’t do all things better than everyone else.
Your humanity is showing just like everyone else’s.
So:
You have to find out who you are, and be that.
You have to decide what comes first, and do that.
You have to discover your strengths, and use them.
You have to learn not to compete with others,
Because no one else is in the contest of ‘being you.’
Then:
You will have learned to accept your own uniqueness.
You will have learned to set priorities and make decisions.
You will have learned to live with your limitations.
You will have learned to give yourself the respect that is due.
And you’ll be a most vital mortal.
Dare To Believe:
That you are a wonderful, unique person.
That you are a once-in-all-history event.
That it’s more than a right, it’s your duty, to be who you are.
That life is not a problem to solve, but a gift to cherish.
And you’ll be able to stay one up on what used to get you down.
By Author Unknown
True Success
I hope my achievements in life shall be these:
That I will have fought for what was right and fair,
that I will have risked for that which mattered,
that I will have given help to those who were in need . . .
That I will have left the Earth a better place
for what I’ve done and who I’ve been.
By C. Hoppe
Carl Thomas Hoppe was born on 22 August 1897 in San Antonio, Texas, United States of America. He became a salesman in a department store and an impressionist landscape painter. Carl Thomas Hoppe passed on at 83 years of age on 15 January 1981 in San Antonio, Texas, United States of America.
I hope my achievements in life shall be these:
That I will have fought for what was right and fair,
that I will have risked for that which mattered,
that I will have given help to those who were in need . . .
That I will have left the Earth a better place
for what I’ve done and who I’ve been.
By C. Hoppe
Carl Thomas Hoppe was born on 22 August 1897 in San Antonio, Texas, United States of America. He became a salesman in a department store and an impressionist landscape painter. Carl Thomas Hoppe passed on at 83 years of age on 15 January 1981 in San Antonio, Texas, United States of America.
Dream Big
If there was ever a time to dare, to make a difference, to embark on something worth doing, it is now. Not for any grand cause, necessarily . . . but for something that tugs at your heart, something that’s your inspiration, something that’s your dream.
You owe it to yourself to make your days here count. Have fun. Dig deep. Stretch. Dream big. Know, though, that things worth doing seldom come easy. There will be good days. And there will be bad days. There will be times when you want to turn around, pack it up, and call it quits. Those times tell you that you are pushing yourself, that you are not afraid to learn by trying.
Persist. Because with an idea, determination, and the right tools, you can do great things. Let your instincts, your intellect, and your heart, guide you.
Trust. Believe in the incredible power of the human mind. Of doing something that makes a difference. Of working hard. Of laughing and hoping. Of lazy afternoons. Of lasting friends. Of all the things that will cross your path this year.
The start of something new brings the hope of something great. Anything is possible. There is only one you. And you will pass this way only once. Do it right. Do it right now.
By Author Unknown
If there was ever a time to dare, to make a difference, to embark on something worth doing, it is now. Not for any grand cause, necessarily . . . but for something that tugs at your heart, something that’s your inspiration, something that’s your dream.
You owe it to yourself to make your days here count. Have fun. Dig deep. Stretch. Dream big. Know, though, that things worth doing seldom come easy. There will be good days. And there will be bad days. There will be times when you want to turn around, pack it up, and call it quits. Those times tell you that you are pushing yourself, that you are not afraid to learn by trying.
Persist. Because with an idea, determination, and the right tools, you can do great things. Let your instincts, your intellect, and your heart, guide you.
Trust. Believe in the incredible power of the human mind. Of doing something that makes a difference. Of working hard. Of laughing and hoping. Of lazy afternoons. Of lasting friends. Of all the things that will cross your path this year.
The start of something new brings the hope of something great. Anything is possible. There is only one you. And you will pass this way only once. Do it right. Do it right now.
By Author Unknown
Each Day Is A Gift
The 92-year-old, petite, well-poised, and dignified lady, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o’clock, with her hair fashionably coifed and makeup perfectly applied, even though she is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today.
Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready.
As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on her window. “I love it,” she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy.
“Mrs. Jones, you haven’t seen the room . . . just wait.”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” she replied. “Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn’t depend on how the furniture is arranged, it’s how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it. It is a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open I’ll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I’ve stored away, just for this time in my life.”
She went on to explain, “Old age is like a bank account, you withdraw from it what you’ve put in. So, my advice to you would be to deposit a lot of happiness in your bank of memories. Thank you for your part in filling my memories bank. I am still adding to it.”
By Author Unknown
The 92-year-old, petite, well-poised, and dignified lady, who is fully dressed each morning by eight o’clock, with her hair fashionably coifed and makeup perfectly applied, even though she is legally blind, moved to a nursing home today.
Her husband of 70 years recently passed away, making the move necessary. After many hours of waiting patiently in the lobby of the nursing home, she smiled sweetly when told her room was ready.
As she maneuvered her walker to the elevator, I provided a visual description of her tiny room, including the eyelet sheets that had been hung on her window. “I love it,” she stated with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old having just been presented with a new puppy.
“Mrs. Jones, you haven’t seen the room . . . just wait.”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” she replied. “Happiness is something you decide on ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn’t depend on how the furniture is arranged, it’s how I arrange my mind. I already decided to love it. It is a decision I make every morning when I wake up. I have a choice; I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulty I have with the parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do. Each day is a gift, and as long as my eyes open I’ll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I’ve stored away, just for this time in my life.”
She went on to explain, “Old age is like a bank account, you withdraw from it what you’ve put in. So, my advice to you would be to deposit a lot of happiness in your bank of memories. Thank you for your part in filling my memories bank. I am still adding to it.”
By Author Unknown
Don’t Quit
When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far;
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit -
It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.
By Edgar A. Guest
Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest was born on 20 August 1881 in Birmingham, England. He immigrated with his family to the United States of America in 1891. From his first published work in the “Detroit Free Press” until his passing in 1959, he penned some 11,000 poems that were syndicated in 300 newspapers and collected into more than twenty books. Mr. Guest is reputed to have had a new poem published in a newspaper every day for more than thirty years. He became known as ‘The People’s Poet,’ writing poems that were of a sentimental and optimistic nature. Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest passed on at 77 years of age on 5 August 1959 in Detroit, Michigan, United States of America.
When things go wrong as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all up hill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.
Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won had he stuck it out;
Don’t give up though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.
Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems so far;
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit -
It’s when things seem worst that you must not quit.
By Edgar A. Guest
Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest was born on 20 August 1881 in Birmingham, England. He immigrated with his family to the United States of America in 1891. From his first published work in the “Detroit Free Press” until his passing in 1959, he penned some 11,000 poems that were syndicated in 300 newspapers and collected into more than twenty books. Mr. Guest is reputed to have had a new poem published in a newspaper every day for more than thirty years. He became known as ‘The People’s Poet,’ writing poems that were of a sentimental and optimistic nature. Edgar Albert ‘Eddie’ Guest passed on at 77 years of age on 5 August 1959 in Detroit, Michigan, United States of America.
There Is A Difference
There is cause for many stings,
In the way some folks do things,
Some go at it “hammer ‘n’ tongs,”
Some with curses, some with songs;
But to each some trait belongs,
Some have soured on everything,
Can’t find aught without a sting,
There are others not so sour,
Who find on every thorn a flower,
And for good they are a power,
As I’ve traveled life’s pathway,
I’ve found grumbling doesn’t pay,
Of the kicker folks have tired;
He’s no longer much admired,
From good company he’s been “fired,”
As I walk along the street,
I look for the good and sweet,
All the sour ones I pass by,
And the only reason why -
I couldn’t like them if I’d try,
So, my friend, take my advice,
Don’t let me have to tell you twice,
If you would ever happy be,
Don’t be sour with all you see,
But be joyous, happy and free.
By William Henry Dawson
There is cause for many stings,
In the way some folks do things,
Some go at it “hammer ‘n’ tongs,”
Some with curses, some with songs;
But to each some trait belongs,
Some have soured on everything,
Can’t find aught without a sting,
There are others not so sour,
Who find on every thorn a flower,
And for good they are a power,
As I’ve traveled life’s pathway,
I’ve found grumbling doesn’t pay,
Of the kicker folks have tired;
He’s no longer much admired,
From good company he’s been “fired,”
As I walk along the street,
I look for the good and sweet,
All the sour ones I pass by,
And the only reason why -
I couldn’t like them if I’d try,
So, my friend, take my advice,
Don’t let me have to tell you twice,
If you would ever happy be,
Don’t be sour with all you see,
But be joyous, happy and free.
By William Henry Dawson
