Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.

Man seems the only growth that dwindles here.

Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
read more

Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain.

"Oh! what a vile and abject thing is man unless he can erect
himself above humanity." Here is a read more

"Oh! what a vile and abject thing is man unless he can erect
himself above humanity." Here is a bon mot and a useful desire,
but equally absurd. For to make the handful bigger than the
hand, the armful bigger then the arm, and to hope to stride
further than the stretch of our legs, is impossible and
monstrous. . . . He may lift himself if God lend him His hand of
special grace; he may lift himself . . . by means wholly
celestial. It is for our Christian religion, and not for his
Stoic virtue, to pretend to this divine and miraculous
metamorphosis.

Write to be understood, speak to be heard, read to grow...

Write to be understood, speak to be heard, read to grow...

Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell.

Growth for the sake of growth is the ideology of the cancer cell.

It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long read more

It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
A lily of a day
Is fairer far in May,
Although it falls and die that night--
It was the plant and flower of Light.

Alas! worse every day! this colony grows backward like the tail
of a calf.
[Lat., Heu quotidie pejus! read more

Alas! worse every day! this colony grows backward like the tail
of a calf.
[Lat., Heu quotidie pejus! haec colonia retroversus crescit
tanquam coda vituli.]

We grow because we struggle, we learn and overcome.

We grow because we struggle, we learn and overcome.

I held it truth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men read more

I held it truth, with him who sings
To one clear harp in divers tones,
That men may rise on stepping stones
Or their dead selves to higher things.