Fortunately, something always remains to be harvested. So let us not be idle.
quote by Gustav Mahler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
When the olive tree blooms during April, olives are harvested with barrels, when it blossoms in June, they are harvested in handfuls.
Fortunately, psychoanalysis is not the only way to resolve inner conflicts. Life itself remains a very effective therapist.
quote by Karen Horney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fortunately analysis is not the only way to resolve inner conflicts. Life itself still remains a very effective therapist.
quote by Karen Horney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fortunately [psychoanalysis] is not the only way to resolve inner conflicts. Life itself still remains a very effective therapist.
quote by Karen Horney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fortunate, Unfortunate
He was
Not unfortunate
But unfortunately
He could not get
What he desired
Unfortunately
What he desired?
Was unachievable
Nobody advised him so
His failure turned into
Misery
Unfortunately
He started to think
He cannot do anything
Fortunately
He met an old saint
Who told him?
To do
What he can do best
He tried and tried
Till he got success
Fortunately
His misery ended
Unfortunately
He did not thank
The old man
poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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Fortunately science, like that nature to which it belongs, is neither limited by time nor by space. It belongs to the world, and is of no country and no age. The more we know, the more we feel our ignorance the more we feel how much remains unknown.
quote by Humphrey Davy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The risky job
Barley sown,
Barley is harvested.
Poppy sown,
Poppy is harvested.
A child sown,
Harvest is unpredictable,
The most risky job.
27.03.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Love
Sweet mother, at the idle loom I lean,
Weary with longing for the boy that still
Remains a dream of loveliness--to fill
My soul, my life, at Aphrodite's will.
Idle in June
She dares not let the world hear her speak,
She's getting thin and looking meek,
A grey hair is splitting in her widows peak
She lays idle in the month of June.
Her hands are cracked and stained from mud,
although she bathes in lathered suds
There's a little of me inside her blood
She lays idle in the month of June
She carries child at her old age,
She's stuck inside her fleshy cage,
Her father birthed her insidious rage
She lays idle in the month of June.
They locked her in a cell up high,
The crime of seeking suicide
Some women they are born only to die,
She lays idle in the month of June.
One day, I know, I'll see her soon,
How I loathe the month of June,
We'll met again come the next new moon,
I won't forget her, idle in the month of June.
poem by H.J. Shreeve
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Remains Unseen
The hate that tears at my brain
Remains unseen to you
The self loathing and the pain
I'm swinging at the end of my rope,
If you only knew
I am lost without a hope,
There's nothing I can do
Oh.
I don't want to live this day
It's getting harder every day,
To face what I've become
The fear of what I have become
Remains unseen to you
A heart that's just gone numb
Remains unseen to you
I just want to close my eyes
And pretend this isn't true
Throw my hands up to the skies
There's nothing I can do
Oh.
This feeling of helplessness
And despair remains unseen to you
It's the cross that I must bear,
But it remains unseen to you
I dwell in a twisted reality of hate,
Remains unseen to you
Ugly thoughts, you cannot relate,
So I'll remain unseen to you
song performed by by Unseen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beside The Idle Summer Sea
Beside the idle summer sea,
And in the vacant summer days,
Light Love came fluting down the ways,
Where you were loitering with me.
Who have not welcomed even as we,
That jocund minstrel and his lays
Beside the idle summer sea
And in the vacant summer days?
We listened, we were fancy-free;
And lo! in terror and amaze
We stood alone – alone and gaze
With an implacable memory
Beside the idle summer sea.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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When the idle poor become the idle rich, you'll never know just who is who, or which is which.
quote by E.Y. Harburg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Idle Wind
The idle wind blows all the day.
I wish it blew my care away.
The idle wind blows all day long
And weaves a burden to my song
Upon the melancholy flight
Of youth and beauty and delight.
The idle wind blows all the day.
I wish it blew my care away.
poem by Gamaliel Bradford
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Us
I was wrapped in black
fur and white fur and
you undid me and then
you placed me in gold light
and then you crowned me,
while snow fell outside
the door in diagonal darts.
While a ten-inch snow
came down like stars
in small calcium fragments,
we were in our own bodies
(that room that will bury us)
and you were in my body
(that room that will outlive us)
and at first I rubbed your
feet dry with a towel
because I was your slave
and then you called me princess.
Princess!
Oh then
I stood up in my gold skin
and I beat down the psalms
and I beat down the clothes
and you undid the bridle
and you undid the reins
and I undid the buttons,
the bones, the confusions,
the New England postcards,
the January ten o'clock night,
and we rose up like wheat,
acre after acre of gold,
and we harvested,
we harvested.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Anne Sexton
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Refuse To Be The One With That Title
Picking with an esteem,
A choice not to be one idle.
And not one to be guided by...
A looking with eyes from side to side.
Picking with an esteem,
A choice not to be one idle.
And not one to be guided by...
A looking with eyes from side to side.
Looking ahead and keeping one's faith,
With a hold that shows one bridled.
Are the ones who never wait too late...
Until time from them has escaped.
Picking with an esteem,
A choice not to be idle.
And not one to be guided by...
A looking with eyes from side to side.
Picking with an esteem,
A choice not to be...idle.
And not one to be guided by...
A looking with eyes from side to side.
Procrastinators are the ones to make mistakes.
And found to be...idle.
As they watch time from them fly right by...
While trying to catch up with slow strides.
Picking with an esteem,
A choice not to be one idle.
And not one to be guided by...
A looking with eyes from side to side.
Picking with an esteem,
A choice not to be...idle.
And not one to be guided by...
A looking with eyes from side to side.
Procrastinators are the ones to make mistakes.
And found to be those idle.
While trying to catch up with slow strides,
As they watch time from them fly right by.
Don't procrastinate and find it's much too late.
Refuse to be the one left idle.
Don't procrastinate and find it's much too late.
Refuse to be the one left idle.
Don't procrastinate and find it's much too late.
Refuse to be the one left idle.
Refuse to be the one left idle.
And...
Don't procrastinate,
To find it's much too late.
Refuse to be the one...
With that title.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fortunately, the second-to-last bug has just been fixed.
quote by Ray Simard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fortunately, I've never had a job.
quote by Lyle Lovett
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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There are a hundred owners besides you until the wheat is harvested.
Knowledge is like a garden: if it is not cultivated, it cannot be harvested.
To the crew of a shot-out Ratel of 61 Mechanised Bn Grp (rondine)
What escape remains when you are trapped
by enemy landmine after landmine,
from the incoming shell’s wailing whine;
when boys, some just children are snapped,
in the flash when a armoured car is scrapped,
even if your bravery does holy shine;
what escape remains?
What little remains when thunder-clapped
of what someone could as a life define
when by law military service did confine
young men, whose lives death had overlapped;
what escape remains?
poem by Gert Strydom
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