Make the most of yourself, for that is all there is of you. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
I am not a has-been. I am a will be. ~Lauren Bacall
If you can’t be a pine on the top of the hill
Be a scrub in the valley—but be
The best little scrub by the side of the rill;
Be a bush if you can’t be a tree.
If you can’t be a bush be a bit of the grass,
And some highway some happier make;
If you can’t be a muskie then just be a bass—
But the liveliest bass in the lake!
We can’t all be captains, we’ve got to be crew,
There’s something for all of us here.
There’s big work to do and there’s lesser to do,
And the task we must do is the near.
If you can’t be a highway then just be a trail,
If you can’t be the sun be a star;
It isn’t by size that you win or you fail—
Be the best of whatever you are!
Douglas Malloch
| Little drops of water, Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean And the pleasant land. Thus the little minutes, Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of eternity. |
Ebenezer Cobham Brewer.
“I have not been spared for nothing. I feel like I have more of a purpose now—I just have to find out what it is. I’ve got to figure out what my Holy Grail is for the rest of my life. I can’t waste this opportunity.” ~ Matt Millen after receiving a heart transplant
“After every storm the sun will smile; for every problem there is a solution, and the soul’s indefeasible duty is to be of good cheer.”
—William R. Alger
I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.
Jack London
I have hoped, I have planned, I have striven,
To the will I have added the deed;
The best that was in me I’ve given,
I have prayed, but the gods would not heed.I have dared and reached only disaster,
I have battled and broken my lance;
I am bruised by a pitiless master
That the weak and the timid call Chance.I am old, I am bent, I am cheated
Of all that Youth urged me to win;
But name me not with the defeated,
To-morrow again, I begin.S.E. Kiser
Excerpt From
It Can Be Done / Poems of Inspiration
Let me go where’er I will
I hear a sky-born music still:
It sounds from all things old,
It sounds from all things young,
From all that’s fair, from all that’s foul,
Peals out a cheerful song.
It is not only in the rose,
It is not only in the bird,
Not only where the rainbow glows,
Nor in the song of woman heard,
But in the darkest, meanest things
There alway, alway something sings.
‘Tis not in the high stars alone,
Nor in the cups of budding flowers,
Nor in the redbreast’s mellow tone,
Nor in the bow that smiles in showers,
But in the mud and scum of things
There alway, alway something sings.
Ralph Waldo Emerson.
