Then hast our the Red Stone perfect with less labour, expense of time and costs, for the which ever thank God.
quote by George Ripley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I'm Not Perfect
I'm (x8)
Had we met at a different time we'd be perfect for each other,
Now were spending all our time, in this world come together,
My heart is aching, from all the love your giving,
Were not faking, is this the life were living?
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
More and more we are together, tryin to discover,
I see a flicker in your eye, are you lookin for somethin better?
You once told me lying on the ground, but keep goin up and down, yo!
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
Why waste it thinkin about it? taste it,
Don't waste it thinkin about it, taste it,
It really doesn't matter wherever i may go,
We're tied together, that's one thing we both know, yo!
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
Now i'm right on time,
I'm not perfect, but i'm perfect for you,
I feel right on time,
Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, i feel right on time,
Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, i feel right on time,
Right on time, i feel on time tonight, i right on time, now i'm right on time,
song performed by by Grace Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 21
It is narrated that an oppressor of the people, a soldier, hit the head of a pious man with a stone and that the dervish, having no means of taking vengeance, preserved the stone till the time arrived when the king became angry with that soldier, and imprisoned him in a well. Then the dervish made his appearance and dropped the stone upon his head. He asked: "Who art thou, and why hast thou hit my head with this stone?" The man replied: "I am the same person whom thou hast struck on the head with this stone on such and such a day." The soldier continued: "Where hast thou been all this time?" The dervish replied: "I was afraid of thy dignity but now when I beheld thee in the well I made use of the opportunity."’
When thou seest an unworthy man in good luck
Intelligent men have chosen submission.
If thou hast not a tearing sharp nail
It will be better not to contend with the wicked.
Who grasps with his fist one who has an arm of steel
Injures only his own powerless wrist.
Wait till inconstant fortune ties his hand.
Then, to please thy friends, pick out his brains.
My Lute Awake
My lute awake! perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And end that I have now begun;
For when this song is sung and past,
My lute be still, for I have done.
As to be heard where ear is none,
As lead to grave in marble stone,
My song may pierce her heart as soon;
Should we then sigh or sing or moan?
No, no, my lute, for I have done.
The rocks do not so cruelly
Repulse the waves continually,
As she my suit and affection;
So that I am past remedy,
Whereby my lute and I have done.
Proud of the spoil that thou hast got
Of simple hearts thorough Love's shot,
By whom, unkind, thou hast them won,
Think not he hath his bow forgot,
Although my lute and I have done.
Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain
That makest but game on earnest pain.
Think not alone under the sun
Unquit to cause thy lovers plain,
Although my lute and I have done.
Perchance thee lie wethered and old
The winter nights that are so cold,
Plaining in vain unto the moon;
Thy wishes then dare not be told;
Care then who list, for I have done.
And then may chance thee to repent
The time that thou hast lost and spent
To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon;
Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
And wish and want as I have done.
Now cease, my lute; this is the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And ended is that we begun.
Now is this song both sung and past:
My lute be still, for I have done.
poem by Sir Thomas Wyatt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Lute Awake
My lute awake! perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And end that I have now begun;
For when this song is sung and past,
My lute be still, for I have done.
As to be heard where ear is none,
As lead to grave in marble stone,
My song may pierce her heart as soon;
Should we then sigh or sing or moan?
No, no, my lute, for I have done.
The rocks do not so cruelly
Repulse the waves continually,
As she my suit and affection;
So that I am past remedy,
Whereby my lute and I have done.
Proud of the spoil that thou hast got
Of simple hearts thorough Love's shot,
By whom, unkind, thou hast them won,
Think not he hath his bow forgot,
Although my lute and I have done.
Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain
That makest but game on earnest pain.
Think not alone under the sun
Unquit to cause thy lovers plain,
Although my lute and I have done.
Perchance thee lie wethered and old
The winter nights that are so cold,
Plaining in vain unto the moon;
Thy wishes then dare not be told;
Care then who list, for I have done.
And then may chance thee to repent
The time that thou hast lost and spent
To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon;
Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
And wish and want as I have done.
Now cease, my lute; this is the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And ended is that we begun.
Now is this song both sung and past:
My lute be still, for I have done.
poem by David McKee Wright
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A laugh costs too much when bought at the expense of virtue.
quote by Marcus Fabius Quintilian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A laugh, if purchased at the expense of propriety, costs too much.
quote by Marcus Fabius Quintilian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is Nothing Perfect
basic is the rule
there is nothing perfect
in this world: no perfect person
there will always be lapses
no perfect planes
there will be crashes sometimes
no perfect clothes
for summer, some colors will still be hot
no perfect friends, there will always be
betrayals from time to time
there is even no perfect time
sometimes we caught in a whorl
with the whore
in a black hole where we do not know
anymore what happens next
there is nothing perfect even
in moderation
no perfect life
neither death,
ask God, he is not either
he was once in error
when he became
man.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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By the Hoof of the Wild Goat
By the Hoof of the Wild Goat uptossed
From the cliff where she lay in the Sun
Fell the Stone
To the Tarn where the daylight is lost,
So she fell from the light of the Sun
And alone!
Now the fall was ordained from the first
With the Goat and the Cliff and the Tarn,
But the Stone
Knows only her life is accursed
As she sinks from the light of the Sun
And alone!
Oh Thou Who hast builded the World,
Oh Thou Who hast lighted the Sun,
Oh Thou Who hast darkened the Tarn,
Judge Thou
The sin of the Stone that was hurled
By the goat from the light of the Sun,
As she sinks in the mire of the Tarn,
Even now--even now--even now!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Costs of manufactured articles importantly depend on the cost of raw materials as well as labour.
quote by Charles E. Wilson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loose Talk Costs Lives
(b gibb)
Loose talk costs lives
People like to play
Were basically the same
We never lie
Loose talk costs lives
Dont look at me as if you dont remember me at all
There was laughter, there was pain
But I wont make the same mistakes I made
You are too beautiful to me
I hide my tears inside the rain
Am I the soul you cast your spell upon
I had control and now its gone
Or are you someone who controls my heart and mind
And I will never say a word
And I will never say goodbye
Loose talk costs lives
People like to play
Were basically the same
We never lie
Loose talk costs lives
I can see that someone hung a sign around your heart
And it reads do not return
And there is so much trouble I could cause
Someone as beautiful as you
You can feel my candle burn
And I still recall some starry night
We had it all, we held on tight
I promised I would come to you and catch you if you fall
And they will never know about us
For just one moment you were mine
Loose talk costs lives
People like to play
Were basically the same
We never lie
Loose talk costs lives
For just one moment, just one moment, you were mine
Loose talk costs lives
(our moment held in time)
People like to play
Were basically the same
We never lie
Loose talk costs lives
Loose talk costs lives
People like to play
Were basically the same
We never lie
Loose talk costs lives
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfect Time Of Day
It's the perfect time of day
It's the last day of your life
Don't let it drift away
While your heart is still racing
It's the perfect time of day
And you wont feel a thing
And you wont recall anything at all
Close your eyes and take your last breath
Press your head aside, the end is the beginning
Everyone between is so lost, so lost.
Let your colors collide
The time is so right
I keep running behind
But I know your meaning
You love to fall
The perfect time of day
Chorus
Wooooo it's the perfect time of day
Come on now
It's the perfect time of day
it's the perfect time with you
song performed by by Howie Day
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Perfect Part 2
I don’t need perfect cloth
I don’t need perfect hair
What I need is a confidence
I don’t need perfect score
I don’t need perfect job
What I need is a support
I don’t need perfect word
I don’t need perfect dream
What I need is a chance
I don’t need perfect agreement
I don’t need perfect control
What I need is a solution
I don’t need perfect holiday
I don’t need perfect memories
What I need is a peace of mind
I don’t need perfect home
I don’t need perfect family
What I need is a comfort
I don’t need perfect love
I don’t need perfect life
What I need is an understanding
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The expense of a war could be paid in time; but the expense of opium, when once the habit is formed, will only increase with time.
quote by Townsend Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To His Lute
MY lute, awake! perform the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And end that I have now begun;
For when this song is said and past,
My lute, be still, for I have done.
As to be heard where ear is none,
As lead to grave in marble stone,
My song may pierce her heart as soon:
Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan?
No, no, my lute! for I have done.
The rocks do not so cruelly
Repulse the waves continually,
As she my suit and affectiòn;
So that I am past remedy:
Whereby my lute and I have done.
Proud of the spoil that thou hast got
Of simple hearts thorough Love's shot,
By whom, unkind, thou hast them won;
Think not he hath his bow forgot,
Although my lute and I have done.
Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain,
That makest but game of earnest pain:
Trow not alone under the sun
Unquit to cause thy lover's plain,
Although my lute and I have done.
May chance thee lie wither'd and old
The winter nights that are so cold,
Plaining in vain unto the moon:
Thy wishes then dare not be told:
Care then who list! for I have done.
And then may chance thee to repent
The time that thou has lost and spent
To cause thy lover's sigh and swoon:
Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,
And wish and want as I have done.
Now cease, my lute! this is the last
Labour that thou and I shall waste,
And ended is that we begun:
Now is this song both sung and past--
My lute, be still, for I have done.
poem by Sir Thomas Wyatt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And, in the past, it has been all too easy for legislators to load costs onto business in order to meet broader social goals. And costs for business means costs for consumers.
quote by John Hutton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Labour And Delivery
Labour and delivery,
Competent and experienced;
And like the steps which are needed to be taken in advance.
Blood and urine samples,
From the mother and the unborn child;
But these simple steps are needed to be taken in advance.
Pregnancy and childbirth,
Are you unable to cover your medical costs? ! !
Then be very wise to seek help from the people around you;
For labour and delivery consists of many steps,
But feasible and deliverable without any complex technology is what you need as at now.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Self-Interrogation
'The evening passes fast away.
'Tis almost time to rest;
What thoughts has left the vanished day,
What feelings in thy breast?
'The vanished day? It leaves a sense
Of labour hardly done;
Of little gained with vast expense—
A sense of grief alone?
'Time stands before the door of Death,
Upbraiding bitterly
And Conscience, with exhaustless breath,
Pours black reproach on me:
'And though I've said that Conscience lies
And Time should Fate condemn;
Still, sad Repentance clouds my eyes,
And makes me yield to them!
'Then art thou glad to seek repose?
Art glad to leave the sea,
And anchor all thy weary woes
In calm Eternity?
'Nothing regrets to see thee go—
Not one voice sobs' farewell;'
And where thy heart has suffered so,
Canst thou desire to dwell?"
'Alas! the countless links are strong
That bind us to our clay;
The loving spirit lingers long,
And would not pass away!
'And rest is sweet, when laurelled fame
Will crown the soldier's crest;
But a brave heart, with a tarnished name,
Would rather fight than rest.
'Well, thou hast fought for many a year,
Hast fought thy whole life through,
Hast humbled Falsehood, trampled Fear;
What is there left to do?
'Tis true, this arm has hotly striven,
Has dared what few would dare;
Much have I done, and freely given,
But little learnt to bear!
'Look on the grave where thou must sleep
Thy last, and strongest foe;
It is endurance not to weep,
If that repose seem woe.
'The long war closing in defeat—
Defeat serenely borne,—
Thy midnight rest may still be sweet,
And break in glorious morn!'
poem by Emily Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To the Duke of Wellington
Because thou hast believ'd, the wheels of life
Stand never idle, but go always round:
Not by their hands, who vex the patient ground,
Mov'd only; but by genius, in the strife
Of all its chafing torrents after thaw,
Urg'd; and to feed whose movement, spinning sand,
The feeble sons of pleasure set their hand:
And, in this vision of the general law,
Hast labour'd with the foremost, hast become
Laborious, persevering, serious, firm;
For this, thy track, across the fretful foam
Of vehement actions without scope or term,
Call'd History, keeps a splendour: due to wit,
Which saw one clue to life, and follow'd it.
poem by Matthew Arnold from Sonnets (1849)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet XVII: Stay, Speedy Time
To Time
Stay, speedy Time, behold, before thou pass,
From age to age what thou hast sought to see,
One in whom all the excellencies be,
In whom Heav'n looks itself as in a glass.
Time, look thyself in this tralucent glass,
And thy youth past in this pure mirror see,
As the world's beauty in his infancy,
What is was then, and thou before it was.
Pass on, and to posterity tell this,
Yet see thou tell but truly what hath been;
Say to our nephews that thou once hast seen
In perfect human shape all heav'nly bliss,
And bid them mourn, nay more, despair with thee,
That she is gone, her like again to see.
poem by Michael Drayton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Self-Interrogation
The evening passes fast away,
'Tis almost time to rest;
What thoughts has left the vanished day,
What feelings, in thy breast?
"The vanished day? It leaves a sense
Of labour hardly done;
Of little, gained with vast expense, -
A sense of grief alone!
"Time stands before the door of Death,
Upbraiding bitterly;
And Conscience, with exhaustless breath,
Pours black reproach on me:
"And though I've said that Conscience lies,
And Time should Fate condemn;
Still, sad Repentance clouds my eyes,
And makes me yield to them!
"Then art thou glad to seek repose?
Art glad to leave the sea,
And anchor all thy weary woes
In calm Eternity?
"Nothing regrets to see thee go -
Not one voice sobs "farewell,"
And where thy heart has suffered so,
Canst thou desire to dwell?"
"Alas! The countless links are strong
That bind us to our clay;
The loving spirit lingers long,
And would not pass away!
"And rest is sweet, when laurelled fame
Will crown the soldier's crest;
But, a brave heart, with a tarnished name,
Would rather fight than rest."
"Well, thou hast fought for many a year,
Hast fought thy whole life through,
Hast humbled Falsehood, trampled Fear;
What is there left to do?"
"'Tis true, this arm has hotly striven,
Has dared what few would dare;
Much have I done, and freely given,
But little learnt to bear!"
"Look on the grave, where thou must sleep,
Thy last, and strongest foe;
It is endurance not to weep,
If that repose seem woe.
"The long war closing in defeat,
Defeat serenely borne,
Thy midnight rest may still be sweet,
And break in glorious morn!"
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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