How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need; by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath. Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.
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The highest praise we can attribute to any writer, painter, sculptor, builder, is, that he actually possessed the thought or feeling with whic...
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The sad souls of those who lived without blame and without praise.
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Taoism: Shit happens Hare krishna: Shit happens Rama Rama Ding Ding Hinduism: This shit has happened before Islam: That shit happens is the will of Allah Zen: What is the sound of shit happening? Existentialism: Shit doesn't happen; shit is Buddhism: When shit happens, is it really shit? Confucianism: Confucius say, 'Shit happens' 7th day Adventist: Shit happens on Saturdays Protestantism: Shit won't happen if I work harder Protestantism: If shit happens, it happens to someone else Catholicism: If shit happens, you deserved it Jehovah's Witnesses: Knock, knock, 'Shit happens' Jehovah's Witnesses: No shit happens until Armaggedon Unitarian: What is this shit? Mormon: Shit happens again & again & again Judaism: Oy vey! Why does this shit always happen to us? Pentacostalism: Praise the shit! Atheism: There is no shit! New Age: Shit happens and it happens to smell good Rastafarianism: Let's smoke this shit
Shit Happens, in various World Religions
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The praise of those who sleep in earth,The pleasant memory of their worth,The hope to meet when life is past,Shall heal the tortured mind at last.
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Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering teach the rest to sneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike; Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend, A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend.
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The logic of worldly success rests on a fallacy: the strange error that our perfection depends on the thoughts and opinions and applause of other men! A weird life it is, indeed, to be living always in somebody else's imagination, as if that were the only place in which one could at last become real.
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Let us be very careful not to fall into the trap of the world. The world views things only relative to man and to self. The Word of God views things relative to the Father, Son, and Spirit. Mankind is not the center of all things. No matter how great anyone's name might become, it is still far behind His. Our name comes from His life the name of our Lord comes from the resurrection--the event unique to Him. The world has a problem it seeks to honor, uphold, exonerate and generally praise itself. Our place and the place of the entire world system is to praise and exalt God. When people of the Bible caught a glimpse of Him, their lives were changed. Perhaps our lives remain stagnate because we do not spend enough time looking at Him.
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My name is `Abdu'l-Bahá [literally, Servant of Baha]. My qualification is `Abdu'l-Bahá. My reality is `Abdu'l-Bahá. My praise is `Abdu'l-Bahá. Thraldom to the Blessed Perfection [Bahá'u'lláh] is my glorious and refulgent diadem, and servitude to all the human race my perpetual religion... No name, no title, no mention, no commendation have I, nor will ever have, except `Abdu'l-Bahá. This is my longing. This is my greatest yearning. This is my eternal life. This is my everlasting glory.
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No attention is paid to the blame or praise that others may give. It does not seek the admiration or the appreciation of the listeners.Ã?Â
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I love all beauteous things, I seek and adore them God hath no better praise, And man in his hasty days Is honored for them.
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I know, indeed, of nothing more subtle satisfying and cheering than a knowledge of the real good will and appreciation of others. Such happiness does not come with money, nor does it flow from a fine physical state. It cannot be bought. But it is the keenest joy, after all; and the toiler's truest and best reward.
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Low ambition and the thirst of praise.
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Some old men, continually praise the time of their youth. In fact, you would almost think that there were no fools in their days, but unluckily they themselves are left as an example.
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I'm proud of all your achievement. You've worked hard for them. I'm proud of your looks and your intelligence - which some far distant ancestor handed down. But I'm most proud of your being just you. 'Success' would be an extra - but you are special to me whatever you do.
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The test of any man's character is how he takes praise.
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There is no investment you can make which will pay you so well as the effort to scatter sunshine and good cheer through your establishment.
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you come, a brave ghost, to fix in my mind without praise or paradise to make me your inheritor.
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Eulogy. Praise of a person who has either the advantages of wealth and power, or the consideration to be dead.
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Most of us, swimming against the tides of trouble the world knows nothing about, need only a bit of praise or encouragement -- and we will make the goal.
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The art of using moderate abilities to advantage wins praise, and often acquires more reputation than actual brilliancy.
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I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat.
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After my father had seen me in five or six things, he said, Son, your mother and I really enjoyed your recent film, and I must say that you're a lot like John Wayne. And I said, How so? And he said, Well, you're exactly the same in all your roles. Now, as a modern American actor, that's not what you want to hear. But for a guy who watched John Wayne movies and grew up in Iowa, it's a sterling compliment.
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My conception of the audience is of a public each member of which is carrying about with him what he thinks is an anxiety, or a hope, or a preoccupation which is his alone and isolates him from mankind; and in this respect at least the function of a play is to reveal him to himself so that he may touch others by virtue of the revelation of his mutuality with them. If only for this reason I regard the theater as a serious business, one that makes or should make man more human, which is to say, less alone.
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It is as hard to satirize well a man of distinguished vices, as to praise well a man of distinguished virtues.
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'O glorious Life, Who dwellest in earth and sun, I have lived, I praise and adore Thee."...
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Get someone else to blow your horn and the sound will carry twice as far.
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Everyone in our culture wants to win a prize. Perhaps that is the grand lesson we have taken with us from kindergarten in the age of perversions of Dewey-style education: everyone gets a ribbon, and praise becomes a meaningless narcotic to soothe egoistic distemper.
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Life just keeps unfolding, ignoring our praise or blame.
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There is no stimulus like that which comes from the consciousness of knowing that others believe in us.
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