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I'm tired of love, I'm still more tired of rhyme, but money gives me pleasure all the time.
I'm tired of love, I'm still more tired of rhyme, but money gives me pleasure all the time.
For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some
coveted after, they have erred read more
For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some
coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced
themselves through with many sorrows.
I knew once a very covetous, sordid fellow who used to say, "Take
care of the pence, for the read more
I knew once a very covetous, sordid fellow who used to say, "Take
care of the pence, for the pounds will take care of themselves."
Money is your means of survival. The verdict you pronounce upon the source of your livelihood is the verdict you read more
Money is your means of survival. The verdict you pronounce upon the source of your livelihood is the verdict you pronounce upon your life. If the source is corrupt, you have damned your own existence. Did you get your money by fraud? By pandering to men's vices or men's stupidity? By catering to fools, in the hope of getting more than your ability deserves? By lowering your standards? By doing work you despise for purchasers your scorn? If so, then your money will not give you a moment's or a penny's worth of joy. Then all the things you buy will become, not a tribute to you, but a reproach; not an achievement, but a reminder of shame. Then you'll scream that money is evil. Evil, because it would not pinch-hit for your self-respect? Evil, because it would not let you enjoy your depravity? Is this the root of your hatred of money?
Nothing is so secure as that money will not defeat it.
Nothing is so secure as that money will not defeat it.
Marketers are out there trying to figure out how to get your money out of your child.
Marketers are out there trying to figure out how to get your money out of your child.
How beauteous are rouleaus! how charming chests
Containing ingots, bags of dollars, coins
(Not of old victors, read more
How beauteous are rouleaus! how charming chests
Containing ingots, bags of dollars, coins
(Not of old victors, all whose heads and crests
Weigh not the thin ore where their visage shines,
But) of find unclipt gold, where dully rests
Some likeness, which the glittering cirque confines,
Of modern, reigning, sterling, stupid stamp;--
Yes! ready money is Aladdin's lamp.
It ain't often that a man's reputation outlasts his money.
It ain't often that a man's reputation outlasts his money.
