Quotes about grudge, page 2
The grudge, meaningless
Though brooded, hatched, fed and cared
by the crow,
No koel shows any gratitude to its foster
mother,
For which no crow broods any grudge
against the koels.
Must you grudge one for ones ingratitude?
23.04.2003
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Beggar's Child
MAVOURNEEN, we'll go far away
From the net of the crooked town
Where they grudge us the light of the day.
Around my neck you will lay
Two tight little arms of brown.
Mavourneen, we'll go far away
From the net of the crooked town.
And what will we hear on the way?
The stir of wings up and down
In nests where the little birds stay!
Mavourneen, we'll go far away
From the net of the crooked town
Where they grudge us the light of the day.
poem by Padraic Colum
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To A Disciple Of William Morris
Stand fast by the ideal. Hero be,
You in your youth, as he from youth to age.
Dare to be last, least, in good modesty,
Nor fret thy soul for speedier heritage.
Even as he lived, live thou, laborious, sage,
Yielding thy flower, leaf, fruitage seasonably,
Content if but some beauty in Time's page
Out of thy being spring and live through thee.
Churl Fame shall grudge (ah, let it grudge!) thee glory.
Knaves have earned that. Behold, the blossoming thorn
Emblazoneth the hedge where fools made foray,
Redeemeth their sad flouts and jibes forlorn.
Ere thou shalt guess, the nightingale thy story
Learning shall speak of thee and shame their scorn.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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A Symbol For Peace, Freedom And Justice
To want freedom and justice for his people was Mandela's only crime
And his freedom taken from him and in jail he spent his prime
But the first democratically elected President of South Africa not one to hold a grudge
His former oppressors he's forgiven he does not condemn or judge.
The now ex President of South Africa is a legend in his time
His potrait painted by famous artists and he's inspired the bards to rhyme
His fame has spread around the World far distant from his Country's shore
And the name of Nelson Mandela destined to live forever more.
He was wrongfully imprisoned yet a grudge he does not hold
And his life well documented and his story often told
In his old age quite a hero and so many he inspire
And a fellow like Mandela is so easy to admire
One of the few inspirational figures in the history of human
kind
And his equals are not many people like him hard to find
A symbol for peace, freedom and justice he is one who can forgive
And the name of Nelson Mandela forever is destined to live.
poem by Francis Duggan
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What More? Not Money!
What more can I ask for
What do I need?
What do I want?
All I need is love to live on
All I need is trust to live on
All I need is sense to live on
All I need is someone else's love to live on
Money isn't just everything
It can buy things
But there are some things money can't buy
Money can't buy my parents
No matter how much people offer me billions of dollars for my parents
I will never hand my parents to them
My parents are worth every single thing to me
I need love to go on
The loneliness is something that has a grudge on me
[...] Read more
poem by XXXHolix Fire
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Dicky
Mother
Oh, what a heavy sigh!
Dicky, are you ailing?
Dicky
Even by this fireside, mother,
My heart is failing.
To-night across the down,
Whistling and jolly,
I sauntered out from town
With my stick of holly.
Bounteous and cool from sea
The wind was blowing,
Cloud shadows under the moon
Coming and going.
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Graves
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Kimon, Son of Learchos, 22, Student of Greek Literature (In Kyrini)
'My end came while I was happy.
Ermotelis had me for his inseparable friend.
During my last days, though he tried to make me believe
that he wasn't worried, I often noticed his eyes
red from crying. And when he'd think
I'd fallen asleep, he'd collapse at the edge of my bed
as though out of his mind. But we were both young men
of the same age, twenty-three years old.
Fate is a traitor. Maybe some other passion
would have taken Ermotelis from me.
It ended the right way: our love undivided.'
This epitaph for Marylos, son of Aristodimos,
who died in Alexandria a month ago,
was sent to me, his cousin Kimon, in my mourning.
It was sent by the author, a poet friend of mine,
sent because he knew I was related to Marylos-
but that's all he knew.
My heart is full of sorrow over Marylos.
We grew up together, like brothers.
I'm deeply saddened. His premature death
[...] Read more
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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Forgiveness
Forgiveness is an act that works through God;
Forgiveness is an act of God in man;
Forgiveness is the work of God’s great love;
Forgiveness is an art that man must learn!
Men with good sense will restrain their anger;
Such men defer their anger for long times;
To forgive transgressions is man’s glory;
To hold one’s tongue is done by people smart.
Forgiving is an act almost divine;
Forgiving is something not all can do;
Forgiving someone is too tough at times;
Forgiving fully is done by just few!
To preach is easy; forgiving is tough;
Forgiving is an honor of men wise;
If God should forgive us, we must forgive;
Like God, we must be slow to anger too.
[...] Read more
poem by John Celes
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Two Sides To Every Story
There are two sides to every story
Not just the side of them or theirs,
So never judge or hold a grudge
And when you listen, please listen with care.
Listen to one side and then always the other
Not just one side and then walk away
If you pick that route, sad you'll turn out
And never will you ever feel or be the same.
You will hate yourself as truth be told
If you listen to only one side of the story
You'll live in disgrace, when you see your face
And never will you fill satisfaction or joy.
As time will come, and of course time will tell
Someday the truth it will all come out
And when it you do hear, will you shed a tear
As you found out you took the wrong route.
There is two sides to every story
Not just the side that you want to hear
And not from their soul, that you do not know
[...] Read more
poem by Randy McClave
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Work chapter VII
Then a ploughman said, "Speak to us of Work."
And he answered, saying:
You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth.
For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life's procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.
When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.
Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings together in unison?
Always you have been told that work is a curse and labour a misfortune.
But I say to you that when you work you fulfil a part of earth's furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born,
And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life,
And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life's inmost secret.
[...] Read more
poem by Khalil Gibran
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