Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 37
Musk is known by its perfume and not by what the druggist says. A scholar is silent like the perfumer’s casket but displays accomplishments, whilst an ignoramus is loud-voiced and intrinsically empty like a war-drum.
A learned man among blockheads
(So says the parable of our friends)
Is like a sweetheart among the blind
Or a Qaroon (Korah) among unbelievers.
Related quotes
Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 50
A disciple without intention is a lover without money; a traveller without knowledge is a bird without wings; a scholar without practice is a tree without fruit, and a devotee without science is a house without a door. The Qaroon (Korah) was revealed for the acquisition of a good character, not for chanting written chapters. A pious unlettered man is like one who travels on foot, whilst a negligent scholar is like a sleeping rider. A sinner who lifts his hands in supplication is better than a devotee who keeps them proudly on his head.
A good humoured and pleasant military officer
Is superior to a theologian who injures men.
One being asked what a learned man without practice resembled, replied: ‘A bee without honey.’
Say to the rude and unkind bee,
‘At least forbear to sting, if thou givest no honey.’
Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 35
Be not astonished when a wise man ceases to speak in company of vile persons, since the melody of a harp cannot overcome the noise of a drum and the perfume of ambergris must succumb to the stench of rotten garlic.
A blatant ignoramus proudly lifted his neck
Because he had overcome a scholar by his impudence.
Knowest thou not that the Hejazi musical tune
Succumbs to the roar of the drum of war?
My Perfumer
My perfumer proclaims a lovely flower,
She confesses it beautifies the brainpower.
This smell is an aroma too furious,
Of obvious fame, and in all categories.
The small and fierce please us with it,
These children of surprise still benefit.
The flower of the perfume is a plant
Of the wild. The perianth steals your grandaunt
That she loosens it from the ground
And takes the aroma of loveliness around.
She is a perfumer of talent and wild taste,
Where on Earth is she based?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Be My Sweetheart
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When birds are on the wing,
When bee and bud and babbling flood
Bespeak the birth of spring,
Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
And wear this posy-ring!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
In the mellow golden glow
Of earth aflush with the gracious blush
Which the ripening fields foreshow;
Dear sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
As into the noon we go!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When falls the bounteous year,
When fruit and wine of tree and vine
Give us their harvest cheer;
Oh, sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
For winter it draweth near.
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When the year is white and old,
When the fire of youth is spent, forsooth,
And the hand of age is cold;
Yet, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
Till the year of our love be told!
poem by Eugene Field
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By my sweetheart
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When birds are on the wing,
When bee and bud and babbling flood
Bespeak the birth of spring,
Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
And wear this posy-ring!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
In the mellow golden glow
Of earth aflush with the gracious blush
Which the ripening fields foreshow;
Dear sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
As into the noon we go!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When falls the bounteous year,
When fruit and wine of tree and vine
Give us their harvest cheer;
Oh, sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
For winter it draweth near.
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When the year is white and old,
When the fire of youth is spent, forsooth,
And the hand of age is cold;
Yet, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
Till the year of our love be told!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Good perfume is known by its scent rather than by the perfumer's advertisement.
A silent river
In the silent river my sweetheart tell me everything
See how calm the waters
In the silent river my sweetheart tell me what you feel
see how beautiful the river
With the sound of birds whistling
Joyful whistling in this river
How happy they gave beauty on this silent river
In the silent river my love dont forget with our promises
Sound of water running thrilling us
Note the butterfly flew with graceful
Add warm atmospher here
in the silent river
how much i have anxious waiting for you here
in the silent river
The anxiety i always remember our promises
here in the silent river
When there is only me that shaded the sun's heat
To time gives the distance between us
In the silent river..
my sweetheart dont forget with our love
Can You Hear It
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
I like that beat as it comes along.
It’s the same beat and the same tune,
we all know it’ll be here soon.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
fast or slow it’s a catchy song.
I kind of look forward to its day
and it's a shame when it goes away.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
It's getting closer and it won’t be long.
At last it's coming down our street
with its catchy drumming beat.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
it's so simple I can’t go wrong.
It's getting louder as it comes near,
the people watching give it a cheer.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the beat’s blasting out loud and strong.
The man inside this sweeping machine
sings as he works to keep the streets clean.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the sounds are fading as it goes along.
But it's nice to know as he sweeps the curb,
his drum, drum, tipi tap, tong, has the final word.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Let blockheads read what blockheads wrote.
quote by Warren Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweetheart
If I was to stand in a general election
Would you tell me about your close inspection
And how I never stood for detection
Or would you take another man?
If I told you I had the solution to starvation
All the nations would be their own salvation
And those that lead us lead us not into temptation
Or they pick another man?
Sweetheart
Its affecting me
Sweetheart
Its so effective
Sweetheart
Do you detect in me
A sacred sweetheart
If I told you about my plan would you believe me?
This is my body, my blood, would you receive me?
Or would you be the first to deceive me
And take another man
If I told you that Im not the man to worry
Would you believe me when I said I was really sorry?
Or would you rush off in a hurry to take another man?
Sweetheart
Disconnect from me
Sweetheart
You have got no respect for me
Sweetheart
Its affecting me
My sacred sweetheart
And when youre troubled and when youre ill
You know Ill help, I always will
And when youre troubled and really down
You know Ill always be around
And when youre troubled and really broke
There is hope, theres hope, theres hope
Sweetheart
Its affecting me
Sweetheart
Youve got no respect for me
Sweetheart
Its so effective
My sacred sweetheart
Sweetheart
Disconnect
Sweetheart
Its so effective
Sweetheart
Its affecting me
My sacred sweetheart
Sweetheart
Sweetheart
Sweetheart
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
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.’
Man, Its So Loud In Here
They fixed up the corner store like it was a night club
Its permanently disco
Everyone is dressed so oddly I cant recognize them
I cant tell the staff from the customers
Baby check this out, Ive got something to say
Man, its so loud in here
When they stop the drum machine and I can think again
Ill remember what it was
You have to carry all your things
You cant misplace them
Theres nowhere to place anything
Baby check this out, Ive got someting to say
Man, its so loud in here
When they stop the drum machine and I can think again
Ill remember what it was
Theyre all shouting something at us, waving and pointing
They revamped the airport completely now it looks just like a night club
Everyones excited and confused
Baby check this out, Ive got someting to say
Man, its so loud in here
When they start the love machine and I can love again
Ill remember what it was
Baby check this out, Ive got someting to say
Man, its so loud in here
Man, its so loud in here
Man, its so loud in here
Man, its so loud in here
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
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.
General Confession
In this noble ring to-day
Let my warning shame ye!
Listen to my solemn voice,--
Seldom does it name ye.
Many a thing have ye intended,
Many a thing have badly ended,
And now I must blame ye.
At some moment in our lives
We must all repent us!
So confess, with pious trust,
All your sins momentous!
Error's crooked pathways shunning.
Let us, on the straight road running,
Honestly content us!
Yes! we've oft, when waking, dream'd,
Let's confess it rightly;
Left undrain'd the brimming cup,
When it sparkled brightly;
Many a shepherd's-hour's soft blisses,
Many a dear mouth's flying kisses
We've neglected lightly.
Mute and silent have we sat,
Whilst the blockheads prated,
And above e'en song divine
Have their babblings rated;
To account we've even call'd us
For the moments that enthrall'd us,
With enjoyment freighted.
If thou'lt absolution grant
To thy true ones ever,
We, to execute thy will,
Ceaseless will endeavour,
From half-measures strive to wean us,
Wholly, fairly, well demean us,
Resting, flagging never.
At all blockheads we'll at once
Let our laugh ring clearly,
And the pearly-foaming wine
Never sip at merely.
Ne'er with eye alone give kisses,
But with boldness suck in blisses
From those lips loved dearly.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Beat Of Your Drum
Photograph king, watches you go
Now fashions may change, heaven knows, but you
Still leave a stain on me
Only to go colours may fade
The seasons may change, weather blows, but you still leave a mark on me
Wrong-negative fades-never the twain, reckless and tame
I like the beat of your drum
I like to look in your eyes
I like to look thru your things
Id like to beat on your drum
I like the smell of your flesh
I like the dirt that you dish
I like the clothes that you wear
Id like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat I beat it
I feel it
Disco brat-follow the pack
Watching you peel, heaven knows, prison cant hold all this greedy intention
Only to go-i picture you now
Music may change-hi-di-ho keen to follow your nose
Wrong-love out of tune
Sweet is the night, bright light destroys me
I like the beat of your drum
I like to look in your eyes
I like to look thru your things
Id like to beat on your drum
I like the smell of your flesh
I like the dirt that you dish
I like the clothes that you wear
Id like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat cant beat it
I feel it
I like to beat on your drum
I like to beat on your drum
I like your face in the crowd
I like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat cant beat it
I feel it
Cant beat it
I feel it
Ho beat it
I beat it
Oh yeah
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to yell it out loud
Id like to beat on your drum
Cant beat it cant beat it
I feel it I feel it
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like your face in the crowd
Id like to beat on your drum
Yeah yeah yeah
Cant beat it
Cant beat it
I be there
Baet it all out
Beat it all in the crowd
Beat it beat it beat it beat it
I feel it I feel it
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to blow your horne
Id like to beat on your drum
Yeah yeah yeah
Ahhhhhh
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Distracted Druggist
'A shilling's worth of quinine, please,'
The customer demanded.
The druggist went down on his knees
And from a cupboard handed
The waiting man a tiny flask:
'Here, Sir, is what you ask.'
The buyer paid and went away,
The druggist rubbed his glasses,
Then sudden shouted in dismay:
'Of all the silly asses!'
And out into the street he ran
To catch the speeding man.
Cried he: 'That quinine that you bought,
(Since all may errors make),
I find was definitely not,--
I sold you strychnine by mistake.
Two shillings is its price, and so
Another bob you owe.'
poem by Robert William Service
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A Blank Sheet
pick the crayons
and color
those empty spaces
on the clean
sheet of paper
beside you
under your
lamp shade
tonight
draw the rainbows
in your mountains
sprinkle it with rain
make the clouds
blue and fill the
rivers with the color
of its waters
sing a tune
give your world
a beautiful sound
spray some perfume
on that paper
to give your world
the scent of musk
and muffin
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In prayer did I hear a hum..?
In prayer did I hear a hum..?
Loud as any drum:
With what measured breath; did it weigh..?
The probity of this another day:
The incline of this my decay…
Faiths emphatic leap…
The deity's of men. The holiness of the snake
Love in its mortal coils heap.
Motionlessly kneeling frequently asleep…
Only momentarily, awake!
Like a cricket at the gate
Ready to jump blindly into fate!
In prayer did I hear a hum..?
Loud as any drum:
poem by Mark Heathcote
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Spineless
I won't see my dear friends as much
Male friends especially, I'll no longer be in touch
I'll change my hobbies to match yours
I'll stop reading my favorite books
I won't spend all this selfish time alone
I'll cater to you and hang on your every word
I'll be subservient and spineless
I'll lick your boots as empty shells
I'll be opinion less and silent
I'll be the prettiest appendage to ever lose herself
I'll re-define self-sacrifice
Live my life as apologetic compromise
I'll know you need if I rock the boat
I'll be subservient and spineless
I'll lick your boots as empty shells
I'll be opinion less and silent
I'll be the prettiest appendage to ever lose herself
I feel this, truly proclaimed will help the curbing of this tendency
I'll be low maintenance and agreeable
I will not talk about my dreams so much
I'll listen to you for hours, won't need anything
I'll be subservient and spineless
I'll lick your boots as empty shells
I'll be opinion less and silent
I'll be the prettiest appendage to ever lose herself
I'll be subservient and spineless
I'll lick your boots as empty shells
I'll be opinion less and silent
I'll be the prettiest appendage to ever lose herself
I feel this, truly proclaimed will help the curbing of this tendency
I know this sharing of shame will ensure that I won't forget myself so easily
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Red Drum
The red drum beats
when every other drum stops beating
every soul dance to the rhythm of life
from the pulsating ethos of the red drum
the red drum not only beats
when you listen, the red drum is talking
every stony heart has a sheath for a knife
from a gush on the tempo of the red drum
the red drum by nature is sexy
when your heart flutter and in frenzy
every stolen glance from your heartthrob
from the blushes irrigated by the red drum
the red drum is jealous and vindictive
when retrospect’s stab is aggressive
every soft spot, love and pardon flee
from dirges the red drum goes on spree
the red drum you should know is the heart
when in our short lives destiny plays its part
every promise given not to stray our drumsticks
from where we are identified as God’s handpicks
poem by Dela Bobobee
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