Through tattered clothes small vices do appear; Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice breaks; Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
No wreaths please - especially no hothouse flowers. Some common memento is better, something he prized and is known by: his old clothes - a few books perhaps.
I gave what other women gave That stepped out of their clothes But when this soul, its body off Naked to naked goes, He it has found shall find therein What none other knows.
A truth that's told with bad intent Beats all the lies you can invent. It is right it should be so; Man was made for Joy and Woe; And when this we rightly know, Thro' the World we safely go, Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine.
The true ornament of any person is virtue, not clothes or jewels.
Swiftly the years, beyond recall, Solemn the stillness of this fair morning, I will clothe myself in spring-clothing, And visit the slopes of the Eastern Hill, By the mountain-stream a mist hovers, Hovers a moment, then scatters, There comes a wind blowing from the south That brushes the fields of new corn.
One hundred years from now It will not matter What kind of car I drove, What kind of house I lived in, How much money I had in my bank account, Nor what my clothes looked like. But the world may be a little better Because I was important in the life of a child.
We ran out of new ideas somewhere around 1978, since then we've been repeating ourselves. Same songs, same movies, same clothes, even the same crimes. Like this Robie guy, no imagination. He's just part of the rhythm and the rhyme of all this repeating. This is 1996, here comes the millennium. But people are nervous, they're on edge, they're jumpy. This is supposed to be something new. But we can't look that in the face, can we? So what do we do? We grab a little something from one year in the fifties and a little of something else from some other year, maybe late sixties. We think we're creating something new and different, but really, all we're doing is just repeating the same old . . . nothing. We're all copycats.
Fishing is a delusion entirely surrounded by liars in old clothes.
According to the ancient Greeks, when Hercules was a boy, just reaching the period of life when there was a question in his mind which path he should pursue, he went forth by himself and sat down and meditated. There came to him someone in the form of a beautiful young woman. "Hercules, I know what you want," she said "the path that I will point out to you will bring pleasure, will bring you constant place in society, will bring you the choice things of life, to eat and to drink and clothing to wear. You shall be popular in the society in which you shall move, and your whole life will be one constant round of pleasure." "What is your name?" Hercules asked. "My enemies call me Vice, but my friends call me Pleasure," she replied. Then there appeared to him another beautiful woman and she said: "Hercules, I shall not deceive you; the path I shall point out to you will be a path of labor, a path of toil, a path of self-sacrifice, a path in which you must devote a great deal of your effort and energy; you will have to forget yourself; you will have to serve your friends; you will have to serve the people of Greece; but if you will take this path and pursue it, although it may bring to you much toil and privation and many sacrifices, you shall become immortal." Hercules asked: "What is your name?" She replied: "My name is Duty."
With clothes the new are best, with friends the old are best.
When parents make a practice of hurting and humiliating their children, they do permanent damage. There is a big difference between describing what you don't like or don't stand for, to a child, and your resulting to name-calling, sarcasm, and cutting remarks. Try to avoid criticism and advice about appearances and clothes. Don't say "just do as we say." Take time to listen, consider, and explain your feelings, let them decide on miner issues. Take a reasonable interest in your child's life, but you don't need to know every detail. Remember, teen-agers can't help being oversensitive to everything. Nature biologically causes a teen-ager to cast out the parents. Don't take it so hard. Appreciate their need to grow up and look outward. Don't be too shattered when all of the sudden you aren't as important any more. Get good books on teen-agers, read them, they will help you understand and may help you from making huge mistakes. When you understand where they are and they understand where you are you can meet a common ground.
A Hundred Years From Now Tell me friend, what will it matter, say a hundred years from now, if you owned a thousand acres or just one old broken plow; If you bought your suits in Paris and your shoes in Italy, Or your clothes were made in patches, like the bed quilts use to be? Whether you lived in a mansion with the finest broadlooms laid, If you had a private chauffeur, Butler, cook, a nurse and maid. Or you lived in a cottage with your health gone on the skids, out of work and out of money just your wife and seven kids. Sure, on earth there makes a difference what we've got and who we know, Whether we are poor and hungry, or we're rolling in the dough And if life down here was only all there was and that was it, then it sure would make a difference for all of us, I must admit. But there there's more to life than livin', more for those who will believe, more in store laid up in heaven if the Saviour we receive. Whether we are lost for ever or to Jesus here we bow, This is what will make a difference in a hundred years from now.
To the salesmen, Watson preached individuality and conservatism at the same time: Some men think that personality can be acquired by wearing unusual clothes or by saying something unusual. That is where many young men are wrong. Present your proposition in your own natural way, always keeping your personality behind your product.
The best way to garden is to put on a wide-brimmed straw hat and some old clothes. And with a hoe in one hand and a cold drink in the other, tell somebody else where to dig.
I tried on the farmer's hat, Didn't fit. . . A little too small - just a bit Too floppy. . . . . I tried on the summer sun, Felt good. Nice and warm -- knew it would. Tried the grass beneath bare feet, Felt neat. Finally, finally felt well dressed, Nature's clothes fit me best.
Your Business clothes are naturally attracted to staining liquids. This attraction is strongest just before an important meeting.
I must get out of these wet clothes and into a dry Martini.
The New Dealers, labor politicians and Socialists have tried to take advantage of the natural American instinct for charity to forward their plans to socialize the furnishing of the necessities of life to all. If the Government gives free medical care to everybody, why not free food, clothing and housing?
When I am talking to a client about their clothes, I try to find out who they are, where they are coming from, who they want to be, who they visualize themselves as, and so forth.
The search for truth is, as it always has been, the noblest expression of the human spirit. Man's insatiable desire for knowledge about himself, about his environment and the forces by which he is surrounded, gives life its meaning and purpose, and clothes it with final dignity.... And yet we know, deep in our hearts, that knowledge is not enough.... Unless we can anchor our knowledge to moral purposes, the ultimate result will be dust and ashes- dust and ashes that will bury the hopes and monuments of men beyond recovery.
Few people know how to take a walk. The qualifications are endurance, plain clothes, old shoes, an eye for nature, good humor, vast curiosity, good speech, good silence and nothing too much.
Common sense is genius dressed in its working clothes.
We take care of our health; we lay up money; we make our roof tight and our clothing sufficient; but who provides wisely that he shall not be wanting in the best property of all-friends?
Just because I have rice on my clothes doesn't mean I've been to a wedding. A chinese man threw up on me.
A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad When he put on his clothes.
There was a young belle of old Natchez Whose garments were always in patchez. When comment arose On the state of her clothes, She drawled, "When Ah itchez, Ah scratchez!"
