Any garment which is cut to fit you is much more becoming, even if it is not so splendid as a garment which has been cut to fit somebody not of your stature.
quote by Edna Ferber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hem Of His Garment
Oh I wish I could be
Touched by the hem of his garment
To be proud has never been
So mean, so stern, so cruel
Oh I wish I could be
Touched by the hem of his garment
Oh, Ive come a long way
To touch the hem of his garment
And anger should be
The tool of a clown or a fool, you see
And why should such spite and such pain
Hang between you and me
When love should be
A queen on her throne
Looking after her own
I wish I could be
Touched by the hem of his garment
Two chairs at this table
One bed in this house
Seriously, I think we could be,
Touched by the hem of his garment
Oh, Ive come a long way
To touch the hem of his garment
Written by d. armstrong, r. armstrong, sister bliss, dave randall & maxi jazz
song performed by by Dido
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Identity would seem to be the garment with which one covers the nakedness of the self, in which case, it is best that the garment be loose, a little like the robes of the desert, through which one's nakedness can always be felt, and, sometimes, discerned. This trust in one's nakedness is all that gives one the power to change one's robes.
quote by James Baldwin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The End Is Near
When you hear the thunder struck
The end is near
When you know people are unlovable
The end is near
When everybody is tribalistic
The end is near
When you know that the time has come
The end is near
When you hear the heavenly trumpet from heaven
And people dress in white garment
The end is near
So be alert
Drop your black garmment
Put on your white garment
Because the end is near
BY TEMILOLA ESTHER AREMU
9years old
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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Behind it all
Pink rosy cheeks
white sparkling teeth
spread of laughter like a flowing garment
Giving comfort and hope
teaching love and peace
strong emphasis made on strength
Appraised by young and old
cherished by he lass
loved by the lads
who never see through her
who never see her when
alone at a corner
the garment of laughter gathers
down the silent path
the strength tears apart
behind closed doors
emptiness fills the air
If only she could get as much as she gives
If only they knew
behind all of it, lies something much more different
poem by Adenuga Titilayo
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Indian Weavers
WEAVERS, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.
Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . .
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.
Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . .
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
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Tell me Brother
Tell me, Brother, how can I renounce Maya?
When I gave up the tying of ribbons, still I tied my garment about me:
When I gave up tying my garment, still I covered my body in its folds.
So, when I give up passion, I see that anger remains;
And when I renounce anger, greed is with me still;
And when greed is vanquished, pride and vainglory remain;
When the mind is detached and casts Maya away, still it clings to the letter.
Kabîr says, 'Listen to me, dear Sadhu! the true path is rarely found.'
Truth
"Truth," said a traveller,
"Is a rock, a mighty fortress;
Often have I been to it,
Even to its highest tower,
From whence the world looks black."
"Truth," said a traveller,
"Is a breath, a wind,
A shadow, a phantom;
Long have I pursued it,
But never have I touched
The hem of its garment."
And I believed the second traveller;
For truth was to me
A breath, a wind,
A shadow, a phantom,
And never had I touched
The hem of its garment.
poem by Stephen Crane
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Waltz
I touch hatred like a covered breast;
I without stopping go from garment to garment,
sleeping at a distance.
I am not, I'm of no use, I do not know
anyone; I have no weapons of ocean or wood,
I do not live in this house.
My mouth is full of night and water.
The abiding moon determines
what I do not have.
What I have is in the midst of the waves,
a ray of water, a day for myself,
an iron depth.
There is no cross-tide, there is no shield, no costume,
there is no special solution too deep to be sounded,
no vicious eyelid.
I live suddenly and other times I follow.
I touch a face suddenly and it murders me.
I have no time.
Do not look for me when drawing
the usual wild thread or the
bleeding net.
Do not call me: that is my occupation.
Do not ask my name or my condition.
Leave me in the middle of my own moon
in my wounded ground.
poem by Pablo Neruda
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The Woman with faith
For years you suffered
a dreadful decease
difficult was your life!
You heard
of the Lord Jesus
heard about His
healing powers
One morning you saw
Him passing by
you thought if you could
only touch His garment
you would be healed
your hand reached out
you touched His garment
What a faith you had
desired to be healed
to live life normally
and to be healed forever
courage you had
like no one else
You were healed
by the Lord's
healing power
He said:
'Courage my daughter
your faith
has made you well'
Your faith was
praiseworthy
strong enough
to move mountains
Blind faith
the faith
of a child
Faith you showed
too many
of us to move
mountains away
from our own will's
and desires
poem by Allen Brodell
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Some men wonder over God's values, others over the cut of a garment.
Whoever has only one garment does not wash it when it rains.
The body is a sacred garment.
quote by Martha Graham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The moth does most mischief to the finest garment.
In a garment made of silk there are no fleas.
Desire of glory is the last garment that even wise men put off.
A good name is more valuable than a velvet garment.