The earth produces all things and receives all again.
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Earth produces all things and receives all again.
Unless each man produces more than he receives, increases his output, there will be less for him than all the others.
quote by Bernard Baruch
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Art produces ugly things which frequently become more beautiful with time. Fashion, on the other hand, produces beautiful things which always become ugly with time.
quote by Jean Cocteau
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The instinct to impersonate produces the actor; the desire to provide pleasure by impersonations produces the playwright; the desire to provide this pleasure with adequate characterization and dialogue memorable in itself produces dramatic literature.
quote by George P. Baker
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The BBC produces wonderful programmes; it also produces a load of old rubbish.
quote by Jonathan Dimbleby
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Man may be considered as a superior species of animal who produces philosophies and poems in about the same way a silkworm produces their cocoons and bees their hives.
quote by Hippolyte Taine
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Adversity draws men together and produces beauty and harmony in life's relationships, just as the cold of winter produces ice-flowers on the window-panes, which vanish with the warmth.
quote by Kierkegaard
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A rise in wages, from an alteration in the value of money, produces a general effect on price, and for that reason it produces no real effect whatever on profits.
quote by David Ricardo
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The house that receives no guests, never receives angels.
In struggling against anguish one never produces serenity; the struggle against anguish only produces new forms of anguish.
quote by Simone Weil
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An artist is somebody who produces things that people don't need to have.
quote by Andy Warhol
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Sonnet: The Omniscient God
God counts the trees and beasts upon the earth,
And knows how many leaves, each twig can bear;
He knows the rates of hearts, our thoughts and breath,
And is our loving Father who takes care.
God counts the flakes of snow that hit the peaks,
And knows the drops of rain, the earth receives;
He knows the volume of water in creeks,
And knows the sins of all Adams and Eves.
God knows the fruits a tree will bear ’fore-hand,
And counts the hairs of every scalp of head;
He knows the fertility of each land,
And counts the number born and that are dead.
The Alfa-Omega, God knows all things,
And yet, His foremost love is for earthlings.
6-9-2001
poem by John Celes
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Peace At Last
Another rocket, another bomb issuing yet more smoke
Buildings falling, dust and rubble, shield your face or choke
More incendiaries that heat the earth
The family of man have no value of life and it's worth
Populations expand, more mouths to feed
Less and less land and it produces more weed
At a time in the future when we are all gone
The earth will sigh and say "thankfully that's all done".
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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But words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew, upon a thought, produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
As our bodies live upon the earth and find sustenance in the fruits which it produces, so our minds feed on the same truths as the intelligible and immutable substance of the divine Word contains.
quote by Nicolas Malebranche
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But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
quote by George Byron
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Work attentively
Work done with involvement
produces interest.
It is the drive from without.
Work done with interest
produces involvement.
It is the drive from within.
In both concentration sets in.
Otherwise, time spent is waste.
07.12.2001, pakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Only he shakes the heavens and from its treasures takes our the winds. He joins the waters and the clouds and produces the rain. He does all those things. Only he realizes miracles permanently.
quote by Michael Servetus
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Nothing In Heaven
Nothing
I mean not a Thing
Literally
No Things
Can You Imagine
That lack
Of Things?
Everything on the Earth
Stays on the Earth
Or under earth
If that be your preference
But nothing
Not one thing
Gets packed
No Things in Heaven
Let me say it
One more time
Not
One
Thing
Only you
And the memory
Of everyone
You ever loved
And every moment
Lived, but not
Lived for the love
Of Things
Can you dig that kind of Thing?
poem by Mary Havran
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Death Sonnet I
From the icy niche where men placed you
I lower your body to the sunny, poor earth.
They didn't know I too must sleep in it
and dream on the same pillow.
I place you in the sunny ground, with a
mother's sweet care for her napping child,
and the earth will be a soft cradle
when it receives your hurt childlike body.
I scatter bits of earth and rose dust,
and in the moon's airy and blue powder
what is left of you is a prisoner.
I leave singing my lovely revenge.
No hand will reach into the obscure depth
to argue with me over your handful of bones.
poem by Gabriela Mistral
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