I tell kids to pursue their basketball dreams, but I tell them to not let that be their only dream.
I think music is the greatest art form that exists, and I think people listen to music for different reasons, and it serves different purposes. Some of it is background music, and some of it is things that might affect a person's day, if not their life, or change an attitude. The best songs are the ones that make you feel something.
A mother's love is like an island In life's ocean vast and wide,A peaceful, quiet shelterFrom the restless, rising tide. A mother's love is like a fortressAnd we seek protection thereWhen the waves of tribulationSeem to drown us in despair. A mother's love is a sanctuaryWhere our soul can find sweet restFrom the struggle and the tensionOf life's fast and futile quest. A mother's love is like a towerRising far above the crowd,And her smile is like the sunshineBreaking through a threatening cloud. A mother's love is like a beaconBurning bright with Faith and PrayerAnd through the changing scenes of lifeWe can find a haven there.... For a mother's love is fashionedAfter God's enduring love,It is endless and unfailingLike the love of Him above. For God knew in His great wisdomThat he couldn't be everywhere,So he put His little ChildrenIn a loving mother's care.
Helen Steiner Rice, A Mother's L
One can write out of love or hate. Hate tells one a great deal about a person. Love makes one become the person. Love, contrary to legend, is not half as blind, at least for writing purposes, as hate. Love can see the evil and not cease to be love. Hate cannot see the good and remain hate. The writer, writing out of hatred, will, thus, paint a far more partial picture than if he had written out of love.
Jessamyn West, To See the Dream,
Mother is putting my new secondhand clothes in order. She prays now, she says, that I may learn in my own life and away from home and friends what the heart is and what it feels. Amen. So be it. Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.Final words of Stephen Daedalus
James Joyce, A Portrait of the A
I deeply believe that if the Australian Labor Party, a party of which I have been a proud member for more than 30 years, is to have the best future for our nation, then it must change fundamentally its culture and to end the power of faceless men. Australia must be governed by the people, not by the factions.
A tide began to surge beneath the calm surface of Stephen's friendliness. This race and this country and this life produced me, he said. I shall express myself as I am.Try to be one of us, repeated Davin. In your heart you are an Irishman but your pride is too powerful.My ancestors threw off their language and took another, Stephen said. They allowed a handful of foreigners to subject them. Do you fancy that I am going to pay in my own life and person debts they made? What for?For our freedom, said Davin.No honourable and sincere man, said Stephen, has given up to you his life and his youth and his affections from the days of Wolfe Tone to those of Parnell, but you sold him to the enemy or failed him in need or reviled him and left him for another. And you invite me to be one of you. I'd see you damned first.They died for their ideals, Stevie, said Davin. Our day will come yet, believe me.Stephen, following his own thought, was silent for an instant...When the soul of a man is born in this country there are nets flung to hold it back from flight. You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets ... Ireland is the old sow that eats her farrow.
James Joyce, A Portrait of the A
On the political front, of course it's a zero-sum game. If it's all white males holding positions, you bring 10 women in, then it's, 'Women are coming!' Get 10 blacks and it's, 'Blacks are coming!' 'Hispanics are coming!' Zero-sum game. The seatmates might change but the chairs don't move. In the economy, the number of chairs can actually increase.
It will be a marvellous thing - the true personality of man - when we see it. It will grow naturally and simply, flower-like, or as a tree grows. It will not be at discord. It will never argue or dispute. It will not prove things. It will know everything. And yet it will not busy itself about knowledge. It will have wisdom. Its value will not be measured by material things. It will have nothing. And yet it will have everything, and whatever one takes from it, it will still have, so rich will it be. It will not be always meddling with others, or asking them to be like itself. It will love them because they will be different. And yet, while it will not meddle with others, it will help all, as a beautiful thing helps us by being what it is. The personality of man will be very wonderful. It will be as wonderful as the personality of a child.In its development it will be assisted by Christianity, if men desire that; but if men do not desire that, it will develop none the less surely. For it will not worry itself about the past, nor care whether things happened or did not happen. Nor will it admit any laws but its own laws; nor any authority but its own authority. Yet it will love those who sought to intensify it, and speak often of them. And of these Christ was one.Know Thyself was written over the portal of the antique world. Over the portal of the new world, Be Thyself shall be written. And the message of Christ to man was simply Be Thyself. That is the secret of Christ.
Oscar Wilde, The Soul of Man Und
Toys tossed on the floor Hand prints on the wallSlamming of the doorAnd footsteps down the hallBoxes made into towersCovers turned into tentsVoices get a lil' louderGuide lines get a lil' bentBoxes now go untouchedCovers in a folded pileSilence never was so muchGuide lines never been n' awhileDid we waste our time a wayWe once had back thenNever taking time to playTo 'oft we walked right past themNow they're grown and gone The house stands still and neatOnly memories left to carry onOh, how our hearts do often weepWould we change time if we could?Would we play a bigger part?Did we get too wrapped up in the world?For now we're left with justMemories of the heart.
Gloria Babb, MEMORIES OF THE HEA