He slept the Illinois nights of his life after days of work in Illinois cornfields.
He slept the Illinois nights of his life after days of work in Illinois cornfields.
Slang is language that takes off its coat, spits on its hands, and goes to work.
Oh, they were men and women who got money for their work, money or love or dreams.
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work. I am the grass. I cover all.
I LOVE him, I love him, ran the patter of her lips
And she formed his name on her tongue and sang
And she sent him word she loved him so much,
So much, and death was nothing; work, art, home,
All was nothing if her love for him was not first
Of all; the patter of her lips ran, I love him,
I love him; and he knew the doors that opened
Into doors and more doors, no end of doors,
And full length mirrors doubling and tripling
The apparitions of doors: circling corridors of
Looking glasses and doors, some with knobs, some
With no knobs, some opening slow to a heavy push,
And some jumping open at a touch and a hello.
One more day of bread and work.
Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
Shakespeare, Leonardo da Vinci, Benjamin Franklin, and Lincoln never saw a movie, heard a radio or looked at TV. They had loneliness and knew what to do with it. They knew that was when the creative mood in them would work.
I couldn't see myself filling some definite niche in what is called a career. This was all misty.
Hands of clocks turn to noon hours and each floor
empties its men and women who go away and eat
and come back to work.
Shovel them under and let me work.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories