Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West, From North and South, come the pilgrim and guest, When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board The old broken links of affection restored, When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more, And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before. What moistens the lips and what brightens the eye? What calls back the past, like the rich pumpkin pie?
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I cannot help but wonder whether, by continuing and expanding the school lunch program, we aren't witnessing, if not encouraging, the slow demise of yet another American tradition the brown bag. ... Perhaps we are beholding yet another break in the chain that links child to home.
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Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys.
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It seems to have had an order, to have been composed by someone, and those events that were merely accidental when they happened turn out to be the main elements in a consistent plot. Who composed this plot? Just as your dreams are composed, so your whole life has been composed by the will within you. Just as the people who you met by chance became effective agents in the structuring of your life, so you have been the agent in the structuring of other lives. And the whole thing gears together like one big symphony, everything influencing and structuring everything else. It's as though our lives were the dream of a single dreamer in which all of the dream characters are dreaming too. And so everything links to everything else moved out of the will in nature...It is as though there were an intention behind it yet it is all by chance. None of us lives the life that he had intended.
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The moment of truth, the sudden emergence of a new insight, is an act of intuition. Such intuitions give the appearance of miraculous flushes, or short-circuits of reasoning. In fact they may be likened to an immersed chain, of which only the beginning and the end are visible above the surface of consciousness. The diver vanishes at one end of the chain and comes up at the other end, guided by invisible links.
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All nationalisms are at heart deeply concerned with names: with the most immaterial and original human invention. Those who dismiss names as a detail have never been displaced; but the peoples on the peripheries are always being displaced. That is why they insist upon their continuity -- their links with their dead and the unborn.
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This is an age of intellectual sauces, of essence, of distillation. We have conclusions without deductions, abridgments of history and abridgments of science without leading facts. We have animals for literature, Cabinet Encyclopaedias, Family Libraries, Diffusion Societies, and heaven knows what else! What is all this for? Not to add knowledge to the learned, but to tell points to the ignorant, without giving them the trouble to acquire the links. Oh! it is sad work. And the result will be injurious to all classes.
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The bonds that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each others life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.
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Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys.
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A garden is evidence of faith. It links us with all the misty figures of the past who also planted and were nourished by the fruits of their planting.
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Marriage. It's like a cultural hand-rail. It links folks to the past and guides them to the future.
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Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,...
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Real education should educate us out of self into something far finer into a selflessness which links us with all humanity.
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We are the living links in a life force that moves and plays around and through us, binding the deepest soils with the farthest stars.
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Real education should educate us out of self into something far finer; into a selflessness which links us with all humanity.
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Friendship is a golden chain, the links are friends so dear, and like a rare and precious jewel, It's treasured more each year.
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Links to the Past: the Importance of Oil History Collections,
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The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.
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