It makes no sense to try to forge the iron whilst it is still cold.
Related quotes
You must take the chance to forge whilst the iron is hot.
Forget Me Not
forget me
not
please do
not
forget me
me not
to forget
not me
forge
t
o
not
for
get
get to forge
forge
t
to me you must
not forget
get me
get me for
i, too do not remember
a face, a name,
i am old.
older than you think.
the pain. i never had this sense
of
what joys did we share? the boulevard.
long time ago. forge me.
forget me not. forget me.
i remember not you anymore.
post
traumatic
this disorder. pity. she finally gives up this bouncy baby boy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cold Iron
Gold is for the mistress -- silver for the maid --
Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.
"Good!" said the Baron, sitting in his hall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of them all."
So he made rebellion 'gainst the King his liege,
Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.
"Nay!" said the cannoneer on the castle wall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- shall be master of you all!"
Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,
When the cruel cannon-balls laid 'em all along;
He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,
And Iron -- Cold Iron -- was master of it all!
Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!)
"What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?"
"Nay!" said the Baron, "mock not at my fall,
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all."
Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown --
Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.
"As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!"
Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!)
"Here is Bread and here is Wine -- sit and sup with me.
Eat and drink in Mary's Name, the whiles I do recall
How Iron -- Cold Iron -- can be master of men all!"
He took the Wine and blessed it. He blessed and brake the Bread,
With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:
"See! These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,
Show Iron -- Cold Iron -- to be master of men all."
"Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong.
Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.
I forgive thy treason -- I redeem thy fall --
For Iron -- Cold Iron -- must be master of men all!"
Crowns are for the valiant -- sceptres for the bold!
Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.
"Nay!" said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,
"But Iron -- Cold Iron -- is master of men all!
Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!"
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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It makes sense
When controversy surrounds
and things blow out of proportion
remember,
that tranquility still makes sense
When tension surrounds
and mind gets exhausted
remember,
that patience still makes sense
When mystery surrounds
and logic takes a backseat
remember,
that reality still makes sense
When laughter surrounds
and the vox gets too loud
remember,
that silence still makes sense
When darkness surrounds
and the heart gets out of rhythm
remember,
that hope still makes sense
poem by Deependra Kumar Jha
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Time for the weather report. It's cold out folks. Bonecrushing cold. The kind of cold which will wrench the spirit out of a young man, or forge it into steel.
quote by Andrew Schneider
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Our Cuba policy didn't make much sense during the Cold War and makes even less sense now.
quote by Stephen M. Walt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Makes More Sense
It makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.
It makes more sense,
To walk away than to be petty.
And it makes more sense,
To prevent a thumping headache.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Many fools love to do.
And it makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.
And it makes more sense,
Not to argue with a fool.
Knowing this is something done,
Fools love to do.
And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.
And it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To chase all bitterness away.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.
Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.
Yes it makes more sense,
To keep the peace with every neighbor.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'You're right' than build a hate.
Knowing that tomorrow promises another day.
It makes more sense,
To leave a fight and not to start it.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'I'm wrong'. And then depart.
What is there to gain to carry hatred in your heart.
It makes more sense,
To leave a fight and not to start it.
And it makes more sense,
To say, 'I'm wrong'. And then depart.
What is there to gain to carry hatred in your heart?
It makes more sense,
Stopping something not to start.
Yes it makes more sense,
Not to tear things all apart.
Or bring up filthy garbage,
Knowing it is just a farce.
Yes it makes more sense.
There should be no doubt about it.
Yes it makes more sense.
There should be no doubt about it.
Yes this makes more sense.
There should be no doubt about it,
That it makes more sense!
Without being convinced,
To leave.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The good Lord made us all out of iron. Then he turns up the heat to forge some of us into steel.
quote by Marie Osmond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rags & Old Iron
Norman curtis, oscar brown jr
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
I heard that old rag man now making his rounds
He came right to my alley lord with sorrowful sounds
Crying rags old iron and pulling his cart
Ask him how much hed give me for my broken heart
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
So I asked that old rag man how much he would pay
For a heart that was broken baby when you went away
For a burnt out old love light that no longer beams
And a couple of slightly used second hand dreams
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
For those big empty promises you used to make
For those memories of you that are no longer sweet
I wish he could haul them off down the street
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
When love doesnt last tell me what is it worth
It was once mamas most precious possession on earth
When I asked that old rag man if hed like to buy
He just shook his head and continued to cry
Rags old iron rags old iron
All he was buying was just rags and old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron
Rags old iron rags old iron rags old iron
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uplift
On one whole bottle "uplifting!"
There is no telling what I'll do
Run head first into traffic
A mindset of annihilation
No sense makes sense
You can't get bought without thought
Ahh... no sense makes sense
You can't get bought without thought inside
Your head now
Uplift - uplifting
Uplifting now
On hallucinogenic "uplift"
I can step out of my body
Religion is in myself
I'll split my head in two and see you twice
No sense makes sense
You can't get bought without thought
Ahh... no sense makes sense
You can't get bought without thought inside
your head now
Uplift... uplifting
Uplifting now...
Uplifting you now...
Give me alcohol extremeties
Instead of proofless christianity
Drunked up in a coma place
Critics disgusted
song performed by by Pantera from Reinventing The Steel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Money Money Money
money makes sense
sometimes we make sense with what makes sense
money money money
makes this spin a little faster
we want to make more
and then we see what we do not want to see
gnarled conscience
whorled integrity
shrinking soul
lost self.
money money money
makes my world dimmer
makes us happy somehow
but for how long?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Making sense
No sense in it if you act non-sense
People may push you away with sense
You may think why people are utterly non-sense?
When you are perfectly ok and act wit sense
You may fail in your love attempts
Some thing may force you or to act prompt
Still you act with sense and avoid
You may face difficulties which are self maid
You may act wise with change of scene
Gentleman like approach when publicly seen
Is it not the humanly act minus sin?
When one tries to project what he has been?
What comes to your help or rescue?
You may be wondering without any clue
You may blink and face may turn blue
When projection makes no sense for you
Sense is third eye for human being
Timely act may make him king
Opponent may face defeat in the ring
You may survive……………..
What, if nothing suggests or paves the way?
Your voice may not be heard or have the say
You may stick to position and bat for long
Still it makes sense that you are not always wrong
You will know what lies ahead?
Common sense may stop you to be mislead
So even if you are worried or so tense
You may act wise and come out with sense
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Sense
Sense
Which makes some sense
Other than nonsense
Supreme sense
Is civic sense.
Embedded with moral sense
Inject sense
In this universe
Oozing with nonsense.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
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Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the cloud of threatening war, it is humanity hanging from a cross of iron.
Dwight D. Eisenhower in speech before the American Society of Newspaper Editors (16 April 1963)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The White Heat
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door --
Red -- is the Fire's common tint --
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame's conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil's even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs -- within --
Re[f]ining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Untile the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Steel Of Dreams
I write to forge thought
to timelessness..
as night gives way to light of day
morning rays transform
gray-scale vision
with magical, gradient, immaculate precision.
I write forging images
cold-rolled dialect
hammered for description
angles I select..
pulled red from the coals
these dreams are annealed
when shape is set,
feelings are revealed.
My anvil and hammer
transform wrought iron vision
with artistic, splendid, immaculate precision!
poem by Robert Scott Cohn
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Angels With Dirty Faces
I need this to get me through
can't resist and don't want to
believe it I know it's true
I can't beat and don't want to try
perfect hell
it's more to me than you ever will know
down here where the rest of us fell
waste away with nothing left to show
while I'm in this perfect hell
obsession has begun
possessed by destruction
how did I get so low
believe me no one knows
sometimes I can't hold on
and no one can help me
now it's got a hold of me
I don't think I can make it through this
now it's got a hold of me
the less I do the more it makes no sense
I'm walking pollution who's drained by delusions
on the verge of destruction I cave in to abduction
thin blood I'm bleeding my pulse won't stop racing
just as my heart explodes
no chance that I could win
too hard to not give in
I just don't feel the same
cause I'm the one to blame
sometimes I can't hold on
and no one can help me
now it's got a hold of me
I don't think I can make it through this
now it's got a hold of me
the less I do the more it makes no sense
I need this to be myself
it feels like I need some help
it's too late to save myself
or it's just in my head
now it's got a hold of me
I don't think I can make it through this
now it's got a hold of me
the less I do the more it makes no sense
now it's got a hold of me
I don't think I can make it through this
now it's got a hold of me
the less I do the more it makes no sense
song performed by by Sum 41
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marching (As Seen From the Left File)
My eyes catch ruddy necks
Sturdily pressed back -
All a red brick moving glint.
Like flaming pendulums, hands
Swing across the khaki -
Mustard-coloured khaki -
To the automatic feet.
We husband the ancient glory
In these bared necks and hands.
Not broke is the forge of Mars;
But a subtler brain beats iron
To shoe the hoofs of death,
(Who paws dynamic air now).
Blind fingers loose an iron cloud
To rain immortal darkness
On strong eyes.
poem by Isaac Rosenberg
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