Hurt people, hurt people. That's how pain patterns get passed on, generation after generation after generation. Break the chain today. Meet anger with sympathy, contempt with compassion and cruelty with kindness. Greet grimaces with smiles. Forgive and forget about finding fault. Love is the weapon of the future.
Carry you in my heart Carry you in my soul Carry you in the empty streets that I walk all alone Carry you in my hope Carry you in my fear and even in my dreams.
Tell me what's wrong with society When everywhere I look I see Rich guys driving big SUVs While kids are starving in the streets No one cares. Is everybody going crazy?
I met in the street a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat was worn, his cloak was out at the elbows, the water passed through his shoes, - and the stars through his soul.
Victor HugoDer Spruch darf mit Autorenangabe frei verwendet werden, da die urheberrechtliche Schutzfrist abgelaufen ist († 22. Mai 1885) Zur Autorenbiographie
In the old days, it was not called the Holiday Season; the Christians called it "Christmas" and went to church; the Jews called it "Hanukka" and went to synagogue; the atheists went to parties and drank. People passing each other on the street would say "Merry Christmas!" or "Happy Hanukka!" or (to the atheists) "Look out for the wall!"
'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be Thinking maybe you come back into the place that we'd meet And you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street
What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street? Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep? What do you feel when you look in the mirror? Are you proud?
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers' tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
Imagine a world where every city is clean No poor on the streets and the people are free Imagine a life where you can do as you please Nothing to stop you from living your dream
If it had not been for these things, I might have lived out my life talking at street corners to scorning men. I might have died, unmarked, unknown, a failure. Now we are not a failure. This is our career and our triumph. Never in our full life could we hope to do such work for tolerance, for justice, for man's understanding of man as now we do by accident. Our words — our lives — our pains — nothing! The taking of our lives — lives of a good shoemaker and a poor fish-peddler — all! That last moment belongs to us — that agony is our triumph.
