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Always Have A Dream
Forget about the days
when it’s been cloudy,
but don’t forget your hours in the sun.
Forget about the times
you’ve been defeated,
but don’t forget the victories you’ve won.
Forget about the mistakes
that you can’t change now,
but don’t forget the lessons.
Forget about the misfortunes
you’ve encountered,
but don’t forget the times
your luck has turned.
Forget about the days
when you’ve been lonely,
but don’t forget the friendly
smiles you’ve seen.
Forget about the plans
that didn’t seem to work out right,
but don’t forget to always have a dream.
By Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the next article, or click or tap on these words to read Hopes And Dreams Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
Forget about the days
when it’s been cloudy,
but don’t forget your hours in the sun.
Forget about the times
you’ve been defeated,
but don’t forget the victories you’ve won.
Forget about the mistakes
that you can’t change now,
but don’t forget the lessons.
Forget about the misfortunes
you’ve encountered,
but don’t forget the times
your luck has turned.
Forget about the days
when you’ve been lonely,
but don’t forget the friendly
smiles you’ve seen.
Forget about the plans
that didn’t seem to work out right,
but don’t forget to always have a dream.
By Author Unknown
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the next article, or click or tap on these words to read Hopes And Dreams Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
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The Things That Haven’t Been Done Before
The things that haven’t been done before,
Those are the things to try;
Columbus dreamed of an unknown shore
At the rim of the far-flung sky,
And his heart was bold and his faith was strong
As he ventured in dangers new,
And he paid no heed to the jeering throng
Or the fears of the doubting crew.
The many will follow the beaten track
With guideposts on the way,
They live and have lived for ages back
With a chart for every day.
Someone has told them it’s safe to go
On the road he has traveled o’er,
And all that they ever strive to know
Are the things that were known before.
A few strike out, without map or chart,
Where never a man has been,
From the beaten paths they draw apart
To see what no man has seen.
There are deeds they hunger alone to do;
Though battered and bruised and sore,
They blaze the path for the many, who
Do nothing not done before.
The things that haven’t been done before
Are the tasks worth while to-day;
Are you one of the flock that follows, or
Are you one that shall lead the way?
Are you one of the timid souls that quail
At the jeers of a doubting crew,
Or dare you, whether you win or fail,
Strike out for a goal that’s new?
By Edgar A. Guest (1927)
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Continue scrolling down this website page to read the next article, or click or tap on these words to read Risks And Rewards Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
The things that haven’t been done before,
Those are the things to try;
Columbus dreamed of an unknown shore
At the rim of the far-flung sky,
And his heart was bold and his faith was strong
As he ventured in dangers new,
And he paid no heed to the jeering throng
Or the fears of the doubting crew.
The many will follow the beaten track
With guideposts on the way,
They live and have lived for ages back
With a chart for every day.
Someone has told them it’s safe to go
On the road he has traveled o’er,
And all that they ever strive to know
Are the things that were known before.
A few strike out, without map or chart,
Where never a man has been,
From the beaten paths they draw apart
To see what no man has seen.
There are deeds they hunger alone to do;
Though battered and bruised and sore,
They blaze the path for the many, who
Do nothing not done before.
The things that haven’t been done before
Are the tasks worth while to-day;
Are you one of the flock that follows, or
Are you one that shall lead the way?
Are you one of the timid souls that quail
At the jeers of a doubting crew,
Or dare you, whether you win or fail,
Strike out for a goal that’s new?
By Edgar A. Guest (1927)
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.
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Seeds Of Kindness
Scatter seeds of kindness,
Everywhere you go;
Scatter bits of courtesy,
Watch them grow and grow.
Gather buds of friendship,
Keep them till full-blown;
You will have more happiness,
Than you have ever known.
Gather every bit of love,
All that you can find;
With it bind the broken hearts,
For love heals all mankind.
By Amy R. Raabe
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the next article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Kindness and Good Deeds” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
Scatter seeds of kindness,
Everywhere you go;
Scatter bits of courtesy,
Watch them grow and grow.
Gather buds of friendship,
Keep them till full-blown;
You will have more happiness,
Than you have ever known.
Gather every bit of love,
All that you can find;
With it bind the broken hearts,
For love heals all mankind.
By Amy R. Raabe
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the next article, or click or tap on these words to read “Fun and Learning about Kindness and Good Deeds” gathered by David Hugh Beaumont.
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Gardens Of The Heart
The toys and blocks with which we play,
Are houses, lands, and gold;
Their values quickly pass away,
As does a tale that’s told.
But kindly gracious deeds abide,
Their wealth will not depart;
Their flowers of joy are multiplied,
In gardens of the heart.
By Charles Russell Wakeley
Charles Russell Wakeley is known as the author of “The Life Triumphant: And Other Poems” (1911) and “Brothers All: And Other Poems” (1946).
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The toys and blocks with which we play,
Are houses, lands, and gold;
Their values quickly pass away,
As does a tale that’s told.
But kindly gracious deeds abide,
Their wealth will not depart;
Their flowers of joy are multiplied,
In gardens of the heart.
By Charles Russell Wakeley
Charles Russell Wakeley is known as the author of “The Life Triumphant: And Other Poems” (1911) and “Brothers All: And Other Poems” (1946).
Continue scrolling down this website page to read the next article, or click or tap on these words to read Kindnesses And Good Deeds Gathered By David Hugh Beaumont.
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A Creed To Live By
Don’t undermine your worth by comparing yourself to others. It is because we are different that each of us is special.
Don’t set your goals by what other people deem important. Only you know what is best for you.
Don’t take for granted the things closest to your heart. Cling to them as you would your life, for without them life is meaningless.
Don’t let life slip through your fingers by living in the past or for the future. By living your life one day at a time, you live up all the days of your life.
Don’t give up when you still have something left to give. Nothing is really over till the moment you stop trying.
Don’t be afraid to admit that you are less than perfect. It is this fragile thread that binds us together.
Don’t be afraid to encounter risks. It is by taking chances, that we learn to be brave.
Don’t shut love out of your life by saying it’s impossible to find. The quickest way to receive love is to give love; the fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly; and the best way to keep love is to give it wings.
Don’t dismiss your dreams. To be without dreams is to be without hope; to be without hope is to be without purpose.
Don’t run through life so fast that you forget not only where you’ve been, but also where you are going. Life is not a race, but a journey to be savored every step of the way.
By Nancye Sims
More of the author’s inspiring writings can be found at https://www.NancyeSims.com/.
Don’t undermine your worth by comparing yourself to others. It is because we are different that each of us is special.
Don’t set your goals by what other people deem important. Only you know what is best for you.
Don’t take for granted the things closest to your heart. Cling to them as you would your life, for without them life is meaningless.
Don’t let life slip through your fingers by living in the past or for the future. By living your life one day at a time, you live up all the days of your life.
Don’t give up when you still have something left to give. Nothing is really over till the moment you stop trying.
Don’t be afraid to admit that you are less than perfect. It is this fragile thread that binds us together.
Don’t be afraid to encounter risks. It is by taking chances, that we learn to be brave.
Don’t shut love out of your life by saying it’s impossible to find. The quickest way to receive love is to give love; the fastest way to lose love is to hold it too tightly; and the best way to keep love is to give it wings.
Don’t dismiss your dreams. To be without dreams is to be without hope; to be without hope is to be without purpose.
Don’t run through life so fast that you forget not only where you’ve been, but also where you are going. Life is not a race, but a journey to be savored every step of the way.
By Nancye Sims
More of the author’s inspiring writings can be found at https://www.NancyeSims.com/.
- Published on
An Hour A Day For A Year
“Only an hour a day!” That does not seem much; it hardly seems worth mentioning.
But let us consider a little. An hour a day may mean more than we think. In a year it represents three hundred and sixty-five hours, and, allowing sixteen hours for a waking day, three hundred and sixty-five hours gives nearly twenty-three days - waking days, too, which is worth taking note of, not days one third of which is spent in necessary sleep.
Now, time is a possession to be parted with for something else; indeed, it forms a large part of the capital with which we trade. We give it and labor, and in exchange get education, money, dexterity, and almost all other things of value. To be watchful of time, then, is wise economy. A person who had astonished many by his achievements was once asked how he had contrived to do so much.
“The year,” he replied, “has three hundred and sixty-five days, or eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours. In so many hours great things may be done; the slow tortoise makes a long journey by losing no time.”
Just think what an hour’s reading daily would amount to in a year. You can read easily a page of an ordinary youth’s paper in twenty minutes, and at that rate could get through, in three hundred and sixty-five hours, no fewer than one thousand and ninety-five pages. And suppose the matter were printed in small pages, of, say, three hundred words apiece, your daily reading for one hour would in a year cover something like twelve thousand pages.
As to the books in which the year’s reading is to be found, let everyone take his choice, remembering that people are known by the company they keep, and that to lead a noble life one should associate as much as possible with the noble.
Instead of reading, suppose one took to writing: an hour a day would then produce quite as remarkable results. Even the short rule of “no day without a line,” has resulted in the production of volumes - we might say almost of libraries.
What results may, indeed, be arrived at by an hour’s daily industry in anything! “An hour in every day,” says a writer, “withdrawn from frivolous pursuits, would, if properly employed, enable a person of ordinary capacity to go far toward mastering a science. It would make an ignorant man a well-informed one in less than ten years.”
Of course, the hour’s work must not be done listlessly. “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.” (“The Bible” (Authorized King James Version (1611)), ‘Ecclesiastes,’ chapter 9, verse 10). It is an advantage, too, to work at intervals instead of a long period at a time. We come to the work fresher, and in better condition to do it justice. When working hours come together, the best work is usually done during the first hour; after that even the most energetic fall off.
In music, an hour’s practicing every day will carry one far in a year. But remember that practicing must be gone through with strict attention. An hour with strict attention is worth more than three hours with carelessness; and if a girl who wants to get on has only one hour to spare each day, she must be to herself a very exacting music master.
It is wise to spend an hour a day in exercise. In an hour one can, without making too great haste, walk three miles. At this rate, a year’s walking represents over a thousand miles. Relaxation is essential to keep up the spirit and prevent life from becoming monotonous, as if one were sentenced to perpetual treadmill. Recreation is necessary, and the pursuit of pleasure is sometimes a duty.
If we had but an hour a day to spare, what would be the best conceivable use to put it to? The best use, perhaps, would be to sit down and think. Suppose we came every day to a full stop for an hour, and thought: “What am I doing? What is to be the end of all this busy life for me? How may I so act that when I go out of the world, it will be the better for my having been in it?” This thinking and planning would make us better characters altogether, would prepare us to face the future, ready for anything that might happen, and would fit us for coming duties. An hour a day spent thus would be a bright streak running through the year.
You say it is easy to talk about devoting an hour a day to anything, and easy to make a start, but very difficult to keep it up. True enough, but there is no end of wonders that can be wrought by the exercise of the human will.
“We all sorely complain,” says Seneca, “of the shortness of time. And yet we have much more than we know what to do with. Our lives are either spent in doing nothing at all, or in doing nothing that we ought to do. We are always complaining that our days are few, and acting as if there would be no end to them.”
An hour a day for a year squandered in idleness or in foolish pursuits means the sacrifice of all the advantages just mentioned. And anyone who keeps up idleness or folly for a year, usually ends in having a lifetime of it.
By Author Unknown
“Only an hour a day!” That does not seem much; it hardly seems worth mentioning.
But let us consider a little. An hour a day may mean more than we think. In a year it represents three hundred and sixty-five hours, and, allowing sixteen hours for a waking day, three hundred and sixty-five hours gives nearly twenty-three days - waking days, too, which is worth taking note of, not days one third of which is spent in necessary sleep.
Now, time is a possession to be parted with for something else; indeed, it forms a large part of the capital with which we trade. We give it and labor, and in exchange get education, money, dexterity, and almost all other things of value. To be watchful of time, then, is wise economy. A person who had astonished many by his achievements was once asked how he had contrived to do so much.
“The year,” he replied, “has three hundred and sixty-five days, or eight thousand seven hundred and sixty hours. In so many hours great things may be done; the slow tortoise makes a long journey by losing no time.”
Just think what an hour’s reading daily would amount to in a year. You can read easily a page of an ordinary youth’s paper in twenty minutes, and at that rate could get through, in three hundred and sixty-five hours, no fewer than one thousand and ninety-five pages. And suppose the matter were printed in small pages, of, say, three hundred words apiece, your daily reading for one hour would in a year cover something like twelve thousand pages.
As to the books in which the year’s reading is to be found, let everyone take his choice, remembering that people are known by the company they keep, and that to lead a noble life one should associate as much as possible with the noble.
Instead of reading, suppose one took to writing: an hour a day would then produce quite as remarkable results. Even the short rule of “no day without a line,” has resulted in the production of volumes - we might say almost of libraries.
What results may, indeed, be arrived at by an hour’s daily industry in anything! “An hour in every day,” says a writer, “withdrawn from frivolous pursuits, would, if properly employed, enable a person of ordinary capacity to go far toward mastering a science. It would make an ignorant man a well-informed one in less than ten years.”
Of course, the hour’s work must not be done listlessly. “Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.” (“The Bible” (Authorized King James Version (1611)), ‘Ecclesiastes,’ chapter 9, verse 10). It is an advantage, too, to work at intervals instead of a long period at a time. We come to the work fresher, and in better condition to do it justice. When working hours come together, the best work is usually done during the first hour; after that even the most energetic fall off.
In music, an hour’s practicing every day will carry one far in a year. But remember that practicing must be gone through with strict attention. An hour with strict attention is worth more than three hours with carelessness; and if a girl who wants to get on has only one hour to spare each day, she must be to herself a very exacting music master.
It is wise to spend an hour a day in exercise. In an hour one can, without making too great haste, walk three miles. At this rate, a year’s walking represents over a thousand miles. Relaxation is essential to keep up the spirit and prevent life from becoming monotonous, as if one were sentenced to perpetual treadmill. Recreation is necessary, and the pursuit of pleasure is sometimes a duty.
If we had but an hour a day to spare, what would be the best conceivable use to put it to? The best use, perhaps, would be to sit down and think. Suppose we came every day to a full stop for an hour, and thought: “What am I doing? What is to be the end of all this busy life for me? How may I so act that when I go out of the world, it will be the better for my having been in it?” This thinking and planning would make us better characters altogether, would prepare us to face the future, ready for anything that might happen, and would fit us for coming duties. An hour a day spent thus would be a bright streak running through the year.
You say it is easy to talk about devoting an hour a day to anything, and easy to make a start, but very difficult to keep it up. True enough, but there is no end of wonders that can be wrought by the exercise of the human will.
“We all sorely complain,” says Seneca, “of the shortness of time. And yet we have much more than we know what to do with. Our lives are either spent in doing nothing at all, or in doing nothing that we ought to do. We are always complaining that our days are few, and acting as if there would be no end to them.”
An hour a day for a year squandered in idleness or in foolish pursuits means the sacrifice of all the advantages just mentioned. And anyone who keeps up idleness or folly for a year, usually ends in having a lifetime of it.
By Author Unknown
Suppose you were to take a kitchen timer or a stopwatch, set it for an hour’s length of time before the beep or buzz or click would sound, and devote that time to a single purpose - and do this every day for a year. What purpose would you choose? Would you learn to play a violin? Would you study personal finance and investing? Would you write fairy tales? Would you do physical exercises? Would you learn how to write computer software code? Would you try to overcome an old bad habit and start a new good habit? Would you put together a history of your family going back generations to hand to posterity? Would you design clothing fashions? Would you build furniture? Would you make a movie? Would you design your dream home? What would you like to do?
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Saying And Doing
It isn’t the talk that will count, boys,
But the doing that springs from the talk.
To what will your walking amount, boys.
With no goal at the end of your walk?
What’s the use of a ladder set up, boys,
With the end resting only on air?
What’s the use of a nobly filled cup boys,
If no one to drink it is there?
What’s the use of a capital plan, boys,
That never is more than a scheme?
He makes a poor, scatter-brained man, boys,
That begins in his boyhood to dream.
No; talk on and plan as you will, boys,
But remember, if you would succeed.
It isn’t the talk that shows skill, boys,
But the end of the talking, - the deed!
By Author Unknown
It isn’t the talk that will count, boys,
But the doing that springs from the talk.
To what will your walking amount, boys.
With no goal at the end of your walk?
What’s the use of a ladder set up, boys,
With the end resting only on air?
What’s the use of a nobly filled cup boys,
If no one to drink it is there?
What’s the use of a capital plan, boys,
That never is more than a scheme?
He makes a poor, scatter-brained man, boys,
That begins in his boyhood to dream.
No; talk on and plan as you will, boys,
But remember, if you would succeed.
It isn’t the talk that shows skill, boys,
But the end of the talking, - the deed!
By Author Unknown
- Published on
Keep A-Pluggin’ Away
I’ve a humble little motto
That is homely, though it’s true, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
It’s a thing when I’ve an object
That I always try to do, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
When you’ve rising storms to quell,
When opposing waters swell,
It will never fail to tell, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
If the hills are high before
And the paths are hard to climb,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
And remember that successes
Come to him who bides his time, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
From the greatest to the least,
None are from the rule released.
Be thou toiler, poet, priest,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
Delve away beneath the surface,
There is treasure farther down, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
Let the rain come down in torrents,
Let the threat’ning heavens frown,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
When the clouds have rolled away,
There will come a brighter day
All your labor to repay, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
There’ll be lots of sneers to swallow.
There’ll be lots of pain to bear, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
If you’ve got your eye on Heaven,
Some bright day you’ll wake up there,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
Perseverance still is king;
Time its sure reward will bring;
Work and wait unwearying, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
By Paul Laurence Dunbar
Paul Laurence Dunbar was born on 27 June 1872 in Dayton, Ohio, United States of America. He was married on 6 March 1898 to Alice Ruth Moore. He became a poet, a novelist, and a short story writer. He is known for his book of poetry, “Lyrics of a Lowly Life” (1896). Paul Laurence Dunbar passed on at 33 years of age on 9 February 1906 in Dayton, Ohio, United States of America and rests in Woodland Cemetery in Dayton, Ohio, United States of America.
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I’ve a humble little motto
That is homely, though it’s true, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
It’s a thing when I’ve an object
That I always try to do, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
When you’ve rising storms to quell,
When opposing waters swell,
It will never fail to tell, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
If the hills are high before
And the paths are hard to climb,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
And remember that successes
Come to him who bides his time, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
From the greatest to the least,
None are from the rule released.
Be thou toiler, poet, priest,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
Delve away beneath the surface,
There is treasure farther down, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
Let the rain come down in torrents,
Let the threat’ning heavens frown,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
When the clouds have rolled away,
There will come a brighter day
All your labor to repay, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
There’ll be lots of sneers to swallow.
There’ll be lots of pain to bear, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
If you’ve got your eye on Heaven,
Some bright day you’ll wake up there,
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
Perseverance still is king;
Time its sure reward will bring;
Work and wait unwearying, -
Keep a-pluggin’ away.
By Paul Laurence Dunbar
Paul Laurence Dunbar was born on 27 June 1872 in Dayton, Ohio, United States of America. He was married on 6 March 1898 to Alice Ruth Moore. He became a poet, a novelist, and a short story writer. He is known for his book of poetry, “Lyrics of a Lowly Life” (1896). Paul Laurence Dunbar passed on at 33 years of age on 9 February 1906 in Dayton, Ohio, United States of America and rests in Woodland Cemetery in Dayton, Ohio, United States of America.
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- Published on
Count Your Blessings
Count your garden by the flowers,
Never by the leaves that fall.
Count your days by garden hours,
Don’t remember clouds at all.
Count your nights by stars, not shadows.
Count your years with smiles, not tears.
Count your blessings, not your troubles.
Count your age by friends, not by years.
By Dixie Willson
Lucile Reiniger ‘Dixie’ Willson was born on 6 August 1890 in Estherville, Iowa, United States of America. A prolific creator, she became a screenwriter and a writer of children’s books, novels, short stories, magazine articles, and poems. She was also a kindergarten teacher, a vaudevillian, and a performer for the Ringling Brothers & Barnum & Bailey Circus. Lucile Reiniger ‘Dixie’ Willson passed on at 83 years of age on 6 February 1974 in Fair Haven, New Jersey, United States of America.
Count your garden by the flowers,
Never by the leaves that fall.
Count your days by garden hours,
Don’t remember clouds at all.
Count your nights by stars, not shadows.
Count your years with smiles, not tears.
Count your blessings, not your troubles.
Count your age by friends, not by years.
By Dixie Willson
Lucile Reiniger ‘Dixie’ Willson was born on 6 August 1890 in Estherville, Iowa, United States of America. A prolific creator, she became a screenwriter and a writer of children’s books, novels, short stories, magazine articles, and poems. She was also a kindergarten teacher, a vaudevillian, and a performer for the Ringling Brothers & Barnum & Bailey Circus. Lucile Reiniger ‘Dixie’ Willson passed on at 83 years of age on 6 February 1974 in Fair Haven, New Jersey, United States of America.
- Published on
Always A Way To Rise
There is always a way to rise, my lad,
Always a way to advance;
But the road that leads to Mount Success
Does not pass by the way of Chance;
It goes through the stations of Work and Strive,
Through the Valley of Persevere,
And the man that succeeds while others fail
Must be willing to pay most dear.
For there is always a way to fall, my lad,
Always a way to slide,
And the men you find at the foot of the hill
All sought for an easy ride.
So on and up, though the road be rough,
And the storms come thick and fast;
There is room at the top for the fellow who tries,
And Victory comes at last.
By Author Unknown
There is always a way to rise, my lad,
Always a way to advance;
But the road that leads to Mount Success
Does not pass by the way of Chance;
It goes through the stations of Work and Strive,
Through the Valley of Persevere,
And the man that succeeds while others fail
Must be willing to pay most dear.
For there is always a way to fall, my lad,
Always a way to slide,
And the men you find at the foot of the hill
All sought for an easy ride.
So on and up, though the road be rough,
And the storms come thick and fast;
There is room at the top for the fellow who tries,
And Victory comes at last.
By Author Unknown
