It is not titles that honor men, but men that honor titles.
quote by Niccolo Machiavelli
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Titles of honor are like the impressions on coins, which add no value to gold or silver, but only render brass current.
quote by Laurence Sterne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Low-key
Titles worn by some,
To them become as significant as the air one breathes.
It is as if a validation has been achieved.
And what they do has merit and can be believed.
But as for me...
I prefer not to wear my titles at all.
I have too many!
And then to do so hints of a certain pretentiousness.
You know what I mean?
I choose to remain low-key.
Although I do 'update' my résumé.
And make sure my 'bio' has no typos!
I want to represent the common man as best as I can.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hymn 148
The names and titles of Christ. From several scriptures.
With cheerful voice I sing
The titles of my Lord,
And borrow all the names
Of honor from his word:
Nature and art can ne'er supply
Sufficient forms of majesty.
In Jesus we behold
His Father's glorious face,
Shining for ever bright,
With mild and lovely rays
Th' eternal God's eternal Son
Inherits and partakes the throne.]
The sovereign King of kings,
The Lord of lords most high,
Writes his own name upon
His garment and his thigh:
His name is called The Word of God;
He rules the earth with iron rod.
Where promises and grace
Can neither melt nor move,
The angry Lamb resents
The injuries of his love;
Awakes his wrath without delay,
As lions roar, and tear the prey.
But when for works of peace
The great Redeemer comes,
What gentle characters,
What titles he assumes!
Light of the world, and Life of men;
Nor will he bear those names in vain.
Immense compassion reigns
In our Immanuel's heart,
When he descends to act
A Mediator's part:
He is a Friend and Brother too;
Divinely kind, divinely true.
At length the Lord the Judge
His awful throne ascends,
And drives the rebels far
From favorites and friends:
Then shall the saints completely prove
The heights and depths of all his love.
poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Bench and the Blonde in Black
His Honor walked into the shop
For of shopping his Honor was fond.
Did she blush? Did her eyes indicate shy surprise
In that slim little, trim little blonde?
Did his bachelor heart miss a beat?
Did she flash him a smile as she turned?
Did his Honor smile back at this vision in black?
Said his Honor, 'The case is adjourned.'
His Honor walked into his court.
Said the advocate, 'Shop-ladies lack
Much appeal, I submit, when these dark frocks they fit -'
Said his Honor, 'I like 'em in black.
Yes, I like 'em in black when they're blonde.
And I am not concerned with the cost.
It's a question of taste; and I've no time to waste.'
Said his Honor, 'Your action is lost.'
His Honor walked into the church.
'I will,' breathed his Honor, and beamed
On his blonde who, alack, was no longer in black,
For in ivory satin she gleamed.
Said the clergyman, 'Say after me -'
Said his Honor, 'My true wedded wife. . .
Er - at - sickness and health....and - er - all worldly wealth....'
Said his Honor, 'The sentence is life.'
His Honor walked up and walked down,
Sobbed the blonde, 'But you don't seem to care!
Why, my grey, pink and green are not fit to be seen;
And I haven't a rag fit to wear!
And you always did say I looked nice
In black suits? Twenty guineas? What fun!'
Then she smiled, kissed his neck, as he wrote out the cheque.
Sighed his Honor, 'Your suit, dear, is won.'
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Way That Honor Is
Honor, gold and praised
highlight of life
given to those raised
Honor struts about with the chest puffed out.
All of the achievements won
these past memories recalled and sway
Honor remembers what fun.
How fun it was to win the cause
to beat the challenge.
poem by Ryan Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To Missionary Skrefsrud In Santalistan
I honor you, who, though refused, affronted,
Have heard the voice, and victory have won;
I honor you, who still by malice hunted,
Show miracles of faith and power done.
I honor you, God-thirsting soul so driven,
'Mid scorn and need the spirit's war to wage;
I honor you, by Gudbrand's valley given,
And of her sons the foremost in this age.
I do not share your faith, your daring dreaming;
This parts us not, the spirit's paths are broad.
For, all things great and noble round us streaming,
I worship them, because I worship God.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Honor Among Scamps
We are the smirched. Queen Honor is the spotless.
We slept thro' wars where Honor could not sleep.
We were faint-hearted. Honor was full-valiant.
We kept a silence Honor could not keep.
Yet this late day we make a song to praise her.
We, codeless, will yet vindicate her code.
She who was mighty, walks with us, the beggars.
The merchants drive her out upon the road.
She makes a throne of sod beside our campfire.
We give the maiden-queen our rags and tears.
A battered, rascal guard have rallied round her,
To keep her safe until the better years.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Breathes There the Man... From the Lay of the Last Minstrel
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
'This is my own, my native land!'
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
As home his footsteps he hath turned,
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Native Land
Breathes there the man, with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
This is my own, my native land!
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd,
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd
From wandering on a foreign strand!
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust, from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Patriotism 01 Innominatus
BREATHES there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
'This is my own, my native land!'
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd
From wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Highland Lassie, O
Nae gentle dames, tho' e'er sae fair,
Shall ever be my muse's care;
Their titles a' are empty show;
Gie me my Highland Lassie, O.
Within the glen sae bushy, O,
Aboon the plain sae rushy, O,
I sit me down wi' right good will,
To sing my Highland Lassie, O.
Oh, were yon hills and valleys mine,
Yon palace and yon gardens fine!
The world then the love should know
I bear my Highland Lassie, O.
Within the glen...
But fickle fortune frowns on me,
And I maun cross the raging sea;
But while my crimson currents flow
I'll love my highland Lassie, O.
Within the glen...
Altho' thro' foreign climes I range,
I know her heart will never change,
For her bosom burns with honor's glow,
My faithful highland Lassie, O.
Within the glen...
For her I'll dare the billows' roar,
For her I'll trace a distant shore,
That Indian wealth may lustre throw
Around my Highland Lassie, O.
Within the glen...
She has my heart, she has my hand,
By sacred troth and honor's band!
Till the mortal stroke shall lay me low,
I'm thine, my highland Lassie, O.
Farewell the glen sae bushy, O!
Farewell the plain sae rushy, O!
To other lands I now must go,
To sing my Highland Lassie, O!
poem by Robert Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Honor and shame from no condition rise.
Act well your part: there all the honor lies.
quote by Alexander Pope
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Honor and shame from no condition rise. Act well your part: there all the honor lies.
quote by Alexander Pope
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
An honor is not diminished for being shared.
Lois McMaster Bujold in Shards of Honor (1986)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
'Tis nobler to lose honor to save the lives of men than it is to gain honor by taking them.
quote by David Borenstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Pablo Diablo (Interlude)
Lawyer: Your honor, I would like to call my first witness
to the stand. All the way from East L.A., your honor,
Pablo Diablo.
Pablo: Hey! Guantana mira. Hey, my lovin' is for everyone, man.
Do you know it reminds me of the summertime in the
bungalows of Spain, all night in the park.
Eh, you would hear your music. It would be on the eighth
floor, but the pongos they reach up there, man!
We used to keep the whole neighborhood up.
(Singing) Guantanamara!
Lawyer: Thank you, Pablo, for nothing. Jesus Christ,
what a moron. No further questions, your honor.
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Pablo Diablo
Lawyer: your honor, i would like to call my first witness
To the stand. all the way from east l.a., your honor,
Pablo diablo.
Pablo: hey! guantana mira. hey, my lovin' is for everyone, man.
Do you know it reminds me of the summertime in the
Bungalows of spain, all night in the park.
Eh, you would hear your music. it would be on the eighth
Floor, but the pongos they reach up there, man!
We used to keep the whole neighborhood up.
(singing) guantanamara!
Lawyer: thank you, pablo, for nothing. jesus christ,
What a moron. no further questions, your honor.
song performed by by Wyclef Jean
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Patriotism 1. Innominatus
BREATHES there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
'This is my own, my native land!'
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd
From wandering on a foreign strand?
If such there breathe, go, mark him well;
For him no Minstrel raptures swell;
High though his titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;
Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
The wretch, concentred all in self,
Living, shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
Unwept, unhonour'd, and unsung.
poem by Sir Walter Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You honor me greatly and beyond my ability as an individual but in so doing you honor my colleagues also who made possible the results you have cited.
quote by Willard Libby
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The key that unlocks is also the key that locks. Honor a child, and he will honor you.