Something to Think About

Don’t allow your wounds to transform you into someone you are not.

Paulo Coelho

 

Each of us has experienced pain, hurt, betrayal, and moments of intense suffering. It’s part of the price of living.

What we become as the result of those moments changes us. Someone said, “These times can make us bitter or better.”

How have you become stronger, wiser, and more loving as a result of your painful experiences?

The work of becoming better is not easy, it is essential if we are to heal and grow and fulfill our destiny.

 

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Today’s Quote on Never Giving Up

There is a day of sunny rest
For every dark and troubled night;
And grief may hide an evening guest,
But joy shall come with early light.

William C. Bryant

“Aquainted With The Night” Poem by Robert Frost

Aquainted With The Night

by Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain — and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
O luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Wisdom for Living by Shakespeare

Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish, her election Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing,
A man that fortune’s buffets and rewards
Hast ta’en with equal thanks; and bless’d are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled That they are not a pipe for fortune’s finger
To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him
In my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee.

William Shakespeare.

“The Sermon” Poem by Herman Melville

The Sermon

     “The ribs and terrors in the whale,

     Arched over me a dismal gloom,

     While all God’s sun-lit waves rolled by,

     And lift me deepening down to doom.

     “I saw the opening maw of hell,

     With endless pains and sorrows there;

     Which none but they that feel can tell—

     Oh, I was plunging to despair.

     “In black distress, I called my God,

     When I could scarce believe him mine,

     He bowed his ear to my complaints—

     No more the whale did me confine.

     “With speed he flew to my relief,

     As on a radiant dolphin borne;

     Awful, yet bright, as lightning shone

     The face of my Deliverer God.

     “My song for ever shall record

     That terrible, that joyful hour;

     I give the glory to my God,

     His all the mercy and the power.”

“The Way of It” Poem by Grantland Rice

The Way Of It 

‘THERE are roads that lead through valleys where the
grass is soft and green ;
There are lanes that lead through morning where the
friendly maples lean;
But for those who face the battle where the far height
holds its thrill

The only goal worth finding
Where the rock-filled road is winding,
Where the heavy burden’s binding,
Is the goal upon a hill.

We may think of life as something that is built up from
a dream;
We may hear old songs that call us where the shafts of
morning stream;
But the storms beyond are waiting for the raw, un-
conquered will,

And though hearts and hopes are breaking
As we come to bitter waking,
Yet the only road worth taking
Is the road that leads uphill. 

Grantland Rice

Life ~ A Poem by Charlotte Bronte

Life

LIFE, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
But these are transient all;
If the shower will make the roses bloom,
O why lament its fall?
Rapidly, merrily,
Life’s sunny hours flit by,
Gratefully, cheerily
Enjoy them as they fly!
What though Death at times steps in,
And calls our Best away?
What though sorrow seems to win,
O’er hope, a heavy sway?
Yet Hope again elastic springs,
Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
Still strong to bear us well.
Manfully, fearlessly,
The day of trial bear,
For gloriously, victoriously,
Can courage quell despair!

By:  Charlotte Bronte