Content with poverty, my soul I arm;
And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.

Content with poverty, my soul I arm;
And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.

For the poor always ye have with you; but me ye have not always.

For the poor always ye have with you; but me ye have not always.

Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe,
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me read more

Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe,
That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so.

The mother of revolution and crime is poverty

The mother of revolution and crime is poverty

It is a tragic mix-up when the United States spends $500,000 for every enemy soldier killed, and only $53 annually read more

It is a tragic mix-up when the United States spends $500,000 for every enemy soldier killed, and only $53 annually on the victims of poverty.

Who, being loved, is poor?

Who, being loved, is poor?

Needy knife-grinder! whither are ye going?
Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order;
Bleak read more

Needy knife-grinder! whither are ye going?
Rough is the road, your wheel is out of order;
Bleak blows the blast--your hat has got a hole in it.
So have your breeches.

Poverty is the step-mother of genius.

Poverty is the step-mother of genius.

Poverty is the openmouthed relentless hell which yawns beneath civilized society. And it is hell enough.

Poverty is the openmouthed relentless hell which yawns beneath civilized society. And it is hell enough.