For here lies the pleasure of living: In taking God's bounties, and giving The gifts back again.
Give of thy love, nor wait to know the worth Of what thou lovest; and ask no returning. And wheresoe'er thy pathway leads on earth, There thou shalt find the lamp of love-light burning.
Love gives us copious potions of delight, Of pain and ecstasy, and peace and care; Love leads us upward, to the mountain height, And, like an angel, stands beside us there; Then thrusts us, demon-like, in some abyss: Where, in the darkness of despair, we grope, Till, suddenly, Love greets us with a kiss And guides us back to flowery fields of hope.
Give her not greatness. For great souls must stand Alone and lonely in this little world: Cleft rocks that show the great Creator's hand, Thither by earthquakes hurled.
Hide in your heart a bitter thought, Still it has power to blight; Think Love, although you speak it not It gives the world more light.
Feast, and your halls are crowded Fast, and the world goes by Succeed and give, and it helps you live But no man can help you die
Give us that grand word 'woman' once again, and let's have done with 'lady'; one's a term full of fine force, strong, beautiful, and firm, fit for the noblest use of tongue or pen; and one's a word for lackeys.
For this is wisdom- to love and live To take what fate or the Gods may give, To ask no question, to make no prayer, To kiss the lips and caress the hair, Speed passion's ebb as we greet its flow, To have and to hold, and, in time--let go.
There is no chance, no destiny, no fate,Can circumvent or hinder or controlThe firm resolve of a determined soul.Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great;All things give way before it soon or late.What obstacle can stay the mighty forceOf the sea seeking river in its course,Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait?
In the long run all love is paid by love, Though undervalued by the hosts of earth; The great eternal Government above Keeps strict account and will redeem its worth. Give thy love freely; do not count the cost; So beautiful a thing was never lost In the long run.
Give thy love freely, do not count the cost: So beautiful a thing was never lost.
All hope is prayer; who calls it hope no more, Sends prayer footsore forth over weary wastes, While he who calls it prayer, gives wings to hope.
Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great; All things give way before it, soon or late.
It is a common fate -- a woman's lot -- To waste on one the riches of her soul, Who takes the wealth she gives him, but cannot Repay the interest, and much less the whole.
Give, and thou shalt receive. Give thoughts of cheer,Of courage and success, to friend and stranger.And from a thousand sources, far and near,Strength will be sent thee in thy hour of danger.
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