Too much alms, the saint will be suspicious.
Related quotes
When the alms is too large, even a saint will be suspicious.
Suspicious Signs
Say whats that thing
On your back
Well I guess its a hair
And the hair is black
I got you on the phone
You said youre all alone
I heard these boots on the floor
And I beg you baby please no more
Suspicious signs
What do I see
Suspicious signs
Suspicious signs
Now everythings so strange
Not how it used to be
I call you up at three
And you say you cant talk to me
Say whats it all about
Why do you talk that loud
I hear your fingertips
Playing with italian hips
Suspicious signs
What do I see
Suspicious signs
Suspicious signs
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suspicious Look In Your Eyes
(clarke / hicks / nash)
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Somehow at times I read your mind
You just float in a cloud above me
Youve no control of what you say
And no faith in the things that I do
If I question you
Its not because Im prying
I give you my best
So why dont you start trying
We used to act and think alike
No regrets after things that wed done
Youre changing all your thoughts of me
Youve no right to put me down this way
I believe in you
So it seems worth trying
You sound so sincere
But when I look at you
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Break
At times I think it seems so clear
But your eyes plague my mind, its no use
They pierce, they glare, they seem to stare
If they spoke what a story theyd tell
I believe in you
So it seems worth trying
You sound so sincere
But when I look at you
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
Youve got that suspicious look in your eyes
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I know that a man who shows me his wealth is like the beggar who shows me his poverty; they are both looking for alms from me, the rich man for the alms of my envy, the poor man for the alms of my guilt.
The saint is suspicious of too many sacrifices.
Suspicion Is Contageous
Scene 1.
When I feel warm in the middle of the night,
I suspect that electricity is cut off as usual
When I bite a pebble while eating rice,
I suspect that it is adulterated as usual.
When I am denied a seat to the university,
I suspect that I am less eligible than others, as usual.
When I am left to fend on my own with family and friend's support,
I suspect that my country is as useless as I, as usual.
Scene 2.
When I come out with my sling bag and laptop,
I am suspicious of everyone who looks at me.
When I walk to the tube and sit there comfortably,
I close my eyes tightly to avoid the suspicious eyes.
When I enter the workplace and talk to my colleagues,
who are as suspicious as I, exchange the suspicious greetings.
Wherever I go, I see the people who are suspicious of others,
cameras to catch the suspicious looking characters,
unattended bags are removed within half an hour,
for the fear of suspicious people planting bombs,
in some other places literally no rubbish bins,
and I am allowed to throw wherever I like,
and people are watching me always as a suspect,
and that makes me to be suspicious of them too.
When I come out with my sling bag,
I am suspicious of everyone who looka at me.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alms
Yes
Today
I will
Give her alms
But only
If she asked
Which she always did
Mysterious cruelty
Not a single glance
As she passed
Hands full of alms
No
Alms full of hands
Yes, My, My hands.
poem by Sanjay Mehta
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suspicios Minds
We're caught in a trap
I can't walk out
Because I love you too much baby
Why can't you see
What you're doing to me
When you don't believe a word I say?
We can't go on together
With suspicious minds
And we can't build our dreams
On suspicious minds
So, if an old friend I know
Drops by to say hello
Would I still see suspicion in your eyes?
Here we go again
Asking where I've been
You can't see these tears are real
I'm crying
We can't go on together
With suspicious minds
And be can't build our dreams
On suspicious minds
Oh let our love survive
Or dry the tears from your eyes
Let's don't let a good thing die
When honey, you know
I've never lied to you
Mmm yeah, yeah
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suspicious Minds
We're caught in a trap
I can't walk out
Because I love you too much baby.
Why can't you see
What you're doing to me
When you don't believe a word I say ?
We can't go on together
With suspicious minds
And we can't build our dreams
On suspicious minds.
So, if an old friend I know
Drops by to say hello
Would I still see suspicion in your eyes ?
Here we go again
Asking where I've been
You can't see these tears are real
I'm crying.
We can't go on together
With suspicious minds
And we can't build our dreams
On suspicious minds.
Oh let our love survive
Or dry the tears from your eyes
Let's don't let a good thing die.
When honey, you know
I've never lied to you
Mmm yeah, yeah
song performed by by Texas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Suspicious Mind
We're caught in a trap
And I can't walk out
Because I love you too much baby
Why can't you see
What you're doing to me
When you don't believe a word I say?
We can't go on together
With suspicious minds
And we can't build our dreams
On suspicious minds
So, if an old friend I know
Drops in to say hello
Would I still see suspicion in your eyes?
Here we go again
Asking where I've been
You can't see these tears I cry
Tears I cry
We can't go on together
With suspicious minds
And be can't build our dreams
On suspicious minds
Oh let our love survive
Or dry the tears from your eyes
Let's don't let a good thing die
When honey, you know
I've never lied to you
You, you, you
Mmm yeah, yeah
song performed by by Fine Young Cannibals
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To be suspicious is not a fault. To be suspicious all the time without coming to a conclusion is the defect.
Suspicious Minds
(words & music by mark james)
Were caught in a trap
I cant walk out
Because I love you too much baby
Why cant you see
What youre doing to me
When you dont believe a word I say?
We cant go on together
With suspicious minds
And we cant build our dreams
On suspicious minds
So, if an old friend I know
Drops by to say hello
Would I still see suspicion in your eyes?
Here we go again
Asking where Ive been
You cant see these tears are real
Im crying
We cant go on together
With suspicious minds
And be cant build our dreams
On suspicious minds
Oh let our love survive
Or dry the tears from your eyes
Lets dont let a good thing die
When honey, you know
Ive never lied to you
Mmm yeah, yeah
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Americans are very friendly and very suspicious, that is what Americans are and that is what always upsets the foreigner, who deals with them, they are so friendly how can they be so suspicious they are so suspicious how can they be so friendly but they just are.
quote by Gertrude Stein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alms For The Poor. Alms For The Poor
'Alms for the poor.
Alms for the poor.'
Is this a new gimmick their using?
Isn't it a bit early to be dressed,
Like characters from a Charles Dickens' novel?
It's not even Halloween yet.
And those folks are dressed is if prepared,
To sing Christmas Carols.
~Well...
I'm not one to be cynical about these things.
Or quick to express a saccharine sentmentalism...
For those I see appearing in Victorian costumes,
This early in the season.
But I will say this...
Whoever advised them to come to this side of the 'hood',
Dressed like that...
Begging? Or whatever that is they are doing,
Has got to be the best salesman 'ever'.
Or...?
Consider this observation,
Those folks are pushing something discovered better than crack.
And they've come to the 'hood'...
To test this new taste of Christmas in October.
To get folks hooked and as high as possible,
To care less what holiday season is near.~
LOL
~Don't laugh.
I remember when 'arms for the poor' meant a soliciting.
Those folks have buckets in their hands,
Painted with pumpkin faces on them.
With their arms stretched out.
Offering samples of whatever is in them.
And...
Dressed in Victorian costumes.
At this time of the night in the inner city?
That doesn't make you suspicious? ~
Comeon.
What's so unusual about it?
They've come to display their charitable natures.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Suspicion is not less an enemy to virtue than to happiness; he that is already corrupt is naturally suspicious, and he that becomes suspicious will quickly be corrupt.
quote by Joseph Addison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Hunters Of Men
HAVE ye heard of our hunting, o'er mountain and glen,
Through cane-brake and forest, — the hunting of men?
The lords of our land to this hunting have gone,
As the fox-hunter follows the sound of the horn;
Hark! the cheer and the hallo! the crack of the whip,
And the yell of the hound as he fastens his grip!
All blithe are our hunters, and noble their match,
Though hundreds are caught, there are millions to catch.
So speed to their hunting, o'er mountain and glen,
Through cane-brake and forest, — the hunting of men!
Gay luck to our hunters! how nobly they ride
In the glow of their zeal, and the strength of their pride!
The priest with his cassock flung back on the wind,
Just screening the politic statesman behind;
The saint and the sinner, with cursing and prayer,
The drunk and the sober, ride merrily there.
And woman, kind woman, wife, widow, and maid,
For the good of the hunted, is lending her aid:
Her foot's in the stirrup, her hand on the rein,
How blithely she rides to the hunting of men!
Oh, goodly and grand is our hunting to see,
In this 'land of the brave and this home of the free.'
Priest, warrior, and statesman, from Georgia to Maine,
All mounting the saddle, all grasping the rein;
Right merrily hunting the black man, whose sin
Is the curl of his hair and the hue of his skin!
Woe, now, to the hunted who turns him at bay!
Will our hunters be turned from their purpose and prey?
Will their hearts fail within them? their nerves tremble, when
All roughly they ride to the hunting of men?
Ho! alms for our hunters! all weary and faint,
Wax the curse of the sinner and prayer of the saint.
The horn is wound faintly, the echoes are still,
Over cane-brake and river, and forest and hill.
Haste, alms for our hunters! the hunted once more
Have turned from their flight with their backs to the shore:
What right have they here in the home of the white,
Shadowed o'er by our banner of Freedom and Right?
Ho! alms for the hunters! or never again
Will they ride in their pomp to the hunting of men!
Alms, alms for our hunters! why will ye delay,
When their pride and their glory are melting away?
The parson has turned; for, on charge of his own,
Who goeth a warfare, or hunting, alone?
The politic statesman looks back with a sigh,
There is doubt in his heart, there is fear in his eye.
Oh, haste, lest that doubting and fear shall prevail,
And the head of his steed take the place of the tail.
Oh, haste, ere he leave us! for who will ride then,
For pleasure or gain, to the hunting of men?
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In Suspicious Pieces
You've got my heart locked up.
And I'm not in a conscious focus...
Not sure if I want to clear.
This whoosie blues too.
That's trapped in a fantasy cage.
I've gotten use to being accused.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And not sure what it is I feel.
My head keeps right on,
Knocking.
With a heart feeling like it's hit by rocks.
And the hitting of the rocks wont seem to stop.
My head keeps right on,
Knocking.
With a heart feeling like it's hit by rocks.
And the hitting of the rocks wont seem to stop.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And not sure what it is I feel.
And what I feel is the real deal.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And not sure what it is I feel.
And what I feel is the real deal.
My head keeps right on,
Knocking.
With a heart feeling like it's hit by rocks.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And not sure what it is I feel.
And what I feel is the real deal.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And I don't know what it is that I feel.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And I don't know what it is that I feel.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And I don't know what it is that I feel.
You've got my heart locked up,
In suspicious pieces.
And I don't know what it is that I feel.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Little Saint Nick
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Oooooooo oooooooo
Well, way up north where the air gets cold
Theres a tale about christmas that youve all been told
And a real famous cat all dressed up in red
And he spends the whole year workin out on his sled
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Just a little bobsled we call it old saint nick
But shell walk a toboggan with a four speed stick
Shes candy-apple red with a ski for a wheel
And when santa hits the gas, man, just watch her peel
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Run run reindeer
Run run reindeer
Whoaa
Run run reindeer
Run run reindeer
He dont miss no one
And haulin through the snow at a frightenin speed
With a half a dozen deer with rudy to lead
Hes gotta wear his goggles cause the snow really flies
And hes cruisin every pad with a little surprise
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Its the little saint nick
Ooooo, little saint nick
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
Ahhhhhh
Oooooooo
Merry christmas saint nick
Christmas comes this time each year
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Beggar To Mab, The Fairy Queen
Please your Grace, from out your store
Give an alms to one that's poor,
That your mickle may have more.
Black I'm grown for want of meat,
Give me then an ant to eat,
Or the cleft ear of a mouse
Over-sour'd in drink of souce;
Or, sweet lady, reach to me
The abdomen of a bee;
Or commend a cricket's hip,
Or his huckson, to my scrip;
Give for bread, a little bit
Of a pease that 'gins to chit,
And my full thanks take for it.
Flour of fuz-balls, that's too good
For a man in needy-hood;
But the meal of mill-dust can
Well content a craving man;
Any orts the elves refuse
Well will serve the beggar's use.
But if this may seem too much
For an alms, then give me such
Little bits that nestle there
In the pris'ner's pannier.
So a blessing light upon
You, and mighty Oberon;
That your plenty last till when
I return your alms again.
poem by Robert Herrick
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