my highs come from having the ability to build ,fix and repair many things i
am of a gentle spirit love and kindness mean more to me then all the riches in this world setting by a fire watching the flames flicker does more for me then concert,bar room or traveling i don't drink and don't like to be around people who do--if you cry at sad movies is a plus , live by your word +honesty+ kindhearted+ weeping spirit + if you are looking just to date or a quick roll i'm not interested
just a couple of my favorites and i will close
A BIT OF QUAKER WISDOM
That we are not only the victims or the beneficiaries of our environment, but often the actual makers of it, at least to a large extent, is a thought that is gradually finding its way into human consciousness. Here is an old story that illustrates the point:
A man who had just moved into a small Pennsylvania town fell into conversation with an old Quaker who was accustomed to sit on a bench in the quiet square in the center of the village.
“What kind of people live here?” asked the newcomer.
“What manner of people didst thee live amongst before?” inquired the Quaker.
“Oh, they were mean, narrow, suspicious, and very unfair,” answered the man.
“Then,” said the Quaker, “I am sorry, friend, but thee will find the same manner of people here.”
Not long afterward the old Quaker was accosted by another man who had come to live in the town.
“What sort of people are they here?” the stranger asked.
“What manner of people didst thee live amongst before?” inquired the olds man.
“Friend,” he answered, “there were the finest folks in the world. They were so friendly, kind and lovable, I hated to leave them.”
The old Quaker beamed.
“Welcome, neighbor,” he said, “be of good cheer, for thee will find the same good people here!”
Senator Vest’s Tribute to the Dog
It is strange how tenaciously poplar memory clings to the bits of eloquence men have uttered, long after their deeds and most of their recorded thoughts are forgotten, or but indifferently remembered. Wherever and as long as the name of the late Senator Vest of Missouri is mentioned, it will always be associated with the beautiful tribute he once uttered in praise of man’s most faithful companion.
Many years ago Senator Vest represented in a law-suit a plaintiff whose dog had been wantonly shot by a neighbor. Damages of $200 were asked, but after two minutes’ deliberation the jury awarded the plaintiff $500, as the result of the following words by his attorney:
“Gentlemen of the Jury: The best friend a man has in this world may turn against him and become his enemy. His son or daughter that he has reared with loving care may prove ungrateful. Those who are nearest and dearest to us, those whom we trust with our happiness and our good name, may become traitors to their faith. The money that a man has, he may lose. It flies away from him, perhaps when he needs it the most. A man’s reputation may be sacrificed in a moment of ill-considered action. The people who are prone to fall on their knees to do us honor when success is with us, may be the first to throw the stone of malice when failure settles its cloud upon our heard. The one absolutely unselfish friend that a man can have in this selfish world, the one that never deserts him and the that never proves ungrateful or treacherous, is his dog.
“Gentlemen of the Jury, a man’s dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he may be near his master’s side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounters with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert he remains. When the riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in it’s journey through the heavens. If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in it’s embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his grave-side will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death.
WHEN IS A MAN A MAN
When he can look out over the rivers, the hills, and the far horizon with a
profound sense of his own littleness in the vast scheme of things, and yet have faith, hope, and courage -- which is the root of every virtue. When he knows that down in his heart every man is as noble, as vile, as divine, as diabolic, and as lonely as himself, and seeks to know, to forgive and to love his fellow man.
When he knows how to sympathize with men in their sorrows, yea, even in their sins -- knowing that each man fights a hard fight against many odds. When he has learned how to make friends, and to keep them, and above all how to keep friends with himself.
When he loves flowers, can hunt birds without a gun, and feels the thrill of an old forgotten joy when he hears the laughter of a little child. When he can be happy and high-minded amid the meaner drudgeries of life. When the star-crowned trees, and the glint of sunlight on flowing waters subdue him like the thought of one much loved and gone home. When no voice of distress reaches his ears in vain and no hand seeks his aid without response. When he finds good in every faith that helps man to lay hold of divine things and see majestic meanings in life, whatever the name of that faith might be.
When he can look into a wayside puddle and see something beyond mud, and into the face of the most forlorn fellow mortal and see something beyond sin. When he has kept faith with himself, with his fellow man, with his God; in his hand a sword for evil, in his heart a bit of song -- glad to live, but not afraid to die!