Poverty was an ornament on a learned man like a red ribbon on a white horse.
Poverty was an ornament on a learned man like a red ribbon on a white horse.
Without comprehension, the immigrant would forever remain shut -- a stranger in America. Until America can release the heart as well as train the hand of the immigrant, he would forever remain driven back upon himself, corroded by the very richness of the unused gifts within his soul.
When I only begin to read, I forget I'm on this world. It lifts me on wings with high thoughts.
Give a beggar a dime and he'll bless you. Give him a dollar and he'll curse you for withholding the rest of your fortune. Poverty is a bag with a hole at the bottom.
The real thing creates its own poetry.
The trouble with us is that the ghetto of the Middle Ages and the children of the twentieth century have to live under one roof.
In America, money takes the place of God.
Like all people who have nothing, I lived on dreams.
A man is free to go up as high as he can reach up to; but I, with all my style and pep, can't get a man my equal because a girl is always judged by her mother.
The power that makes the grass grow, fruit ripen, and guides the bird in flight is in us all.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories