Iron sharpens iron; scholar, the scholar.
quote by William Drummond
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The great scholar forgets about fame, the average scholar works for it, and the unworthy scholar steals it.
As iron sharpens iron, so a man sharpens the countance of his friend.
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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As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend.
quote by King Solomon
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The scholar who cherishes the love of comfort is not fit to be deemed a scholar.
Confucius in The Confucian Analects
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The humblest painter is a true scholar; and the best of scholars the scholar of nature.
quote by William Hazlitt
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The scholar who cherishes the love of comfort is not fit to be deemed a scholar.
A scholar who cherishes the love of comfort is not fit to be deemed a scholar.
A scholar who cherishes the love of comfort is not fit to be deemed a scholar.
The Right Wife
A man who has found the right wife has found joy,
For the gladness of the heart needs peace;
And of the muse that overcomes stress at last.
Tend the fig tree and eat from its fruits,
Because iron does sharpen iron!
And one sharpens the perception of his or her friend.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I would like to be a scholar in whatever I do, a scholar is never finished, he is always seeking and I am always seeking.
quote by Ahmad Jamal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cabinessence
Light the lamp and fire mellow,
Cabin essence timely hello,
Welcomes the time for a change.
Lost and found, you still remain there.
Youll find a meadow filled with grain there.
Ill give you a home on the range.
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
Who ran the iron horse?
I want to watch you windblown facing
Waves of wheat for your embracing.
Folks sing a song of the grange.
Nestle in a kiss below there.
The constellations ebb and flow there.
And witness our home on the range.
Who ran the iron horse?
(truck driving man do what you can)
Who ran the iron horse?
(high-tail your load off the road)
Who ran the iron horse?
(out of night-life-its a gas man)
Who ran the iron horse?
(I dont believe I gotta grieve)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in and out of luck)
Who ran the iron horse?
(with a buck and a booth)
Who ran the iron horse?
(catchin on to the truth)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in the vast past, the last gasp)
Who ran the iron horse?
(in the land, in the dust, trust that you must)
Who ran the iron horse?
(catch as catch can)
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Have you seen the grand coolie workin on the railroad?
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
Over and over,
The crow cries uncover the cornfield.
Over and over,
The thresher and hover the wheat field.
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hutterite Mile
on from here walkin dreams awake
i think not i think not
the sky comes king blown in every direction
and of no country
i am straw
it is no mystery
i know my way from here
iron sharpens iron
crooked wooden and peacock black
i have your feathers
slung across my back
i'm not the only one
to help you down the hill
my blue knuckles do as they will
it is no mystery
i know my way from here
it is no mystery
i know my way from here
one as precious as the other
they go with me
today i am not a false conscience
a tyrant
angels line my pockets dear
i walk a hutterite mile
look at me this once
put an eye to my step
look and furrow
its only misery its only ankle deep
it is no mystery
i know my way from here
it is no mystery
i know my way from here
song performed by by 16 Horsepower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 07 On The Effects Of Education Story 01
A vezier who had a stupid son gave him in charge of a scholar to instruct him and if possible to make him intelligent. Having been some time under instruction but ineffectually, the learned man sent one to his father with the words: ‘The boy is not becoming intelligent and has made a fool of me.’
When a nature is originally receptive
Instruction will take effect thereon.
No kind of polishing will improve iron
Whose essence is originally bad.
Wash a dog in the seven oceans,
He will be only dirtier when he gets wet.
If the ass of Jesus be taken to Mekkah
He will on his return still be an ass.
Offering Me
Before the war the major had been a scholar,
Systems were malfunctioning due to his guess,
And so he jingled with pride at the open air,
Instilling pride in those eyes that were two.
To blur the words I have been small,
As the sight has arrived due to the blurring word.
He, the scholar, was facing my pages of ruler ship,
The cancellations and doubts blurred the page.
An electronic system was abroad and welcoming,
Off as an action, offering me with praise.
poem by Naveed Akram
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If I lived back in the Wild West days, instead of carrying a six-gun in my holster, I'd carry a soldering iron. That way, if some smart-aleck cowboy said something like, 'Hey look. He's carrying a soldering iron' and started laughing, and everybody else started laughing, I could just say, 'That's right, it's a soldering iron. The soldering iron of justice.' Then everybody would get real quiet and ashamed, because they made fun of the soldering iron of justice, and I could probably hit them up for a free drink.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When 'They' Choose
No one,
Can turn a fool into a scholar.
With one on one instruction is refused.
And everything one can do has been done...
No one can turn a fool into a scholar.
Because a fool,
Will always claim something they know...
Gives them reason,
To not comprehend with an understanding...
The purpose to pay attention is in the moment.
Not when a fool decides,
They will do what they please...
When 'they' choose!
To do a nothing but make excuses,
With a blaming someone else...
For not having the patience to make them learn...
When 'they' choose!
And 'they' will always choose to be fools.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Iron, Lion, Zion
I am on the rock and then I check a stock
I have to run like a fugitive to save the life I live
Im gonna be iron like a lion in zion (repeat)
Iron lion zion
Im on the run but I aint got no gun
See they want to be the star
So they fighting tribal war
And they saying iron like a lion in zion
Iron like a lion in zion,
Iron lion zion
Im on the rock, (running and you running)
I take a stock, (running like a fugitive)
I had to run like a fugitive just to save the life I live
Im gonna be iron like a lion in zion (repeat)
Iron lion zion, iron lion zion, iron lion zion
Iron like a lion in zion, iron like a lion in zion
Iron like a lion in zion
song performed by by Bob Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 39
The son of a faqih said to his father: ‘These heart-ravishing words of moralists make no impression upon me because I do not see that their actions are in conformity with their speeches.’
They teach people to abandon the world
But themselves accumulate silver and corn.
A scholar who only preaches and nothing more
Will not impress anyone when he speaks.
He is a scholar who commits no evil,
Not he who speaks to men but acts not himself.
Will you enjoin virtue to mankind and forget your own souls?
A scholar who follows his lusts and panders to his body
Is himself lost although he may show the way.
The father replied: ‘My son, it is not proper merely on account of this vain fancy to turn away the face from the instruction of advisers, to travel on the road of vanity, to accuse the ullemma of aberration, and whilst searching for an immaculate scholar, to remain excluded from the benefits of knowledge, like a blind man who one night fell into the mud and shouted: “O Musalmans, hold a lamp on my path.” Whereon a courtesan who heard him asked: “As thou canst not see the lamp, what wilt thou see with the lamp?” In the same way the preaching assembly is like the shop of a dealer in linen because if thou bringest no money thou canst obtain no wares and if thou bringest no inclination to the assembly thou wilt not get any felicity.’
He said: ‘Listen with thy soul’s ear to a scholar Although his actions may not be like his doctrines.’
In vain does the gainsayer ask:
‘How can a sleeper awaken a sleeper?
A man must receive into his ears
The advice although it be written on a wall.’
A pious man came to the door of a college from a monastery. He broke the covenant of the company of those of the Tariq. I asked him what the difference between a scholar and a monk amounts to? He replied: ‘The former saves his blanket from the waves Whilst the latter strives to save the drowning man.’
Yad Mordechai
Yad Mordechai. Those who fell here
still look out the windows like sick children
who are not allowed outside to play.
And on the hillside, the battle is reenacted
for the benefit of hikers and tourists. Soldiers of thin sheet iron
rise and fall and rise again. Sheet iron dead and a sheet iron life
and the voices all—sheet iron. And the resurrection of the dead,
sheet iron that clangs and clangs.
And I said to myself: Everyone is attached to his own lament
as to a parachute. Slowly he descends and slowly hovers
until he touches the hard place.
Translated by Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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