Experience is like a comb that life gives you when you are bald.
quote by Navjot Singh Sidhu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Experience is the comb that nature gives us when we are bald.
Experience is a comb which nature gives to men when they are bald.
Wisdom is a comb given to a man once he is bald.
The Falklands thing was a fight between two bald men over a comb.
quote by Jorge Luis Borges
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the Manor is burning
The Housekeeper a bald-headed senile
Who search his lost toothless comb in a hurry.
* Since his childhood the orphan waged for the baroness.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Basically, they had asked me if I would shave my head or wear a bald cap. I said look, if you are doing a series for five years I would want to shave my hair because I would go bald with all the gum and glue from the bald cap.
quote by Persis Khambatta
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Experience is a comb that is given to you, when you have already lost you hair.
quote by Giorgos Zambetas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Experience is a comb which fate gives to a man when his hair is all gone.
The Screen Behind The Mirror
(m.cretu.) .
Heres the mirror
Behind there is a screen
Turn around
On both ways you can get in
The experience of survival
Look around just people, can you hear their voice
Find the one wholl guide you to the limits of your choice
The experience / of survival
Try to think about it ...
Thats the chance to live your life and discover
Try to think about it
The experience of survival
The experience ...
The experience of survival
The experience ...
song performed by by Enigma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leise Rieselt Der Schnee
Leise rieselt der schnee,
Still und starr liegt der see.
Winterlich glnzet der wald:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald!
In den herzen ists warm;
Still schweigt kummer und harm.
Sorge des lebens verhallt:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald.
Bald ist stille nacht.
Friede auf erden erwacht.
Horch nur, wie lieblich es schallt:
Freue dich, christkind kommt bald
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet -On Experience
One cannot learn from experience always,
For Knowledge is a sea; experience, Lake;
Some learn the same in hours or weeks or days;
Some never do all life, forever fake.
Experience implies one had done mistakes;
It is much wiser to learn from others;
To forget knowledge too, experience makes;
A continued process, it is, brothers.
Experience can't vouchsafe a man is wise;
And wisdom comes to one who God well loves;
Too much of experience could turn a vice.
All need not see the burst of bombs or stoves.
By experience, no man should turn haughty,
Nor should he try to be with peers, naughty.
poem by John Celes
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Bald as the bare mountain tops are bald, with a baldness full of grandeur.
quote by Matthew Arnold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Life Is A Fountain Of Dreams
Life is a journey that all we take,
We should fearless do every day forward a step,
Could be a fail, or could be not,
We should let life to flow.
Life is a mystery each passing day,
We wake up and find unbelievable ways,
We seek, we experience, we fulfill our knowledge hunger,
Each experience of life makes us stronger.
Life is a struggle and life is a joy,
We can experience happiness or we can experience pain,
It's about choices we should take,
Life is a lesson each step we make.
Moments of life are bad or good,
We live and remember those moments,
Memories will be kept forever in our hearts,
But hopes are base of the future.
Never give up hoping,
Life is it short but didnt finish yet,
As long as you are still living,
Your life is a fountain of dreams.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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A Boy's Trials
When I was but a little lad
One thing I could not bear,
It was to stand at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
They didn't keep boys' hair as short
As it's kept now-a-days,
And mine was always tangled up
In twenty different ways.
I'd twist my mouth and grit my teeth,
And say it wasn't fair-
It was a trial, and no mistake,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd brush and brush each stubborn curl
That grew upon my pate,
And with her scissors nip and clip
To make the edges straight.
Then smooth it down until it shone,
While I would grin and bear,
And feel a martyr through and through,
When mother combed my hair.
She'd take my round chin in her hand
And hold it there the while
She made the parting carefully,
Then tell me with a smile:
'Don't push your cap down on your curls
And spoil my work and care;
He is a pretty little lad
When mother combs his hair.'
I'd hurry out and rumple up
That mop of hair so thick-
A vandal, I, for she had worked
So hard to make it slick-
And wish I were a grown-up man
So nobody would dare
To put a washrag in my ears,
Or comb my tangled hair.
Heigho! now that I'm bald and gray,
Methinks I would be glad
To have her smooth my brow and cheeks,
And whisper, 'Mother's lad!'
A longing for the care-free days
Doth take me unaware;
To stand, a boy, at mother's knee
And have her comb my hair.
poem by Jean Blewett
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You don't find me too bald, do you? Old, and bald, and with a belly?
quote by Julio Iglesias
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sadie and Maud
Maud went to college.
Sadie stayed home.
Sadie scraped life
With a fine toothed comb.
She didn't leave a tangle in
Her comb found every strand.
Sadie was one of the livingest chicks
In all the land.
Sadie bore two babies
Under her maiden name.
Maud and Ma and Papa
Nearly died of shame.
When Sadie said her last so-long
Her girls struck out from home.
(Sadie left as heritage
Her fine-toothed comb.)
Maud, who went to college,
Is a thin brown mouse.
She is living all alone
In this old house.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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She Will Speak About Some Men
almost bald, some hair have consistently fallen
bigger tummies
bloated to some earthly experience
the men of her life
smelling beer
and saline sweat
but always she will remember them
always feeling sexy
the dark room
the musk perfume
the warm blankets
some pillow cases
smelling pungent still
inside her lonely mind
her heart has stopped bleeding
the men of her life
oh! they were sexy too
tall and strong and naked
always penetrating
her emptiness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cravat Or Turkey Neck
The visible signs of ageing
the bald head
I've been nearly bald
since my early
twenties
the Friar Tuck grey hair
the last remnant
of a great teenage
Elvis pompadour
the turkey neck
I could disguise
with a cravat
but that's not me.
poem by Vince Gullaci
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