When May, with cowslip-braided locks,
Walks through the land in green attire.
And burns in meadow-grass the phlox
His torch of purple fire:
And when the punctual May arrives,
With cowslip-garland on her brow,
We know what once she gave our lives,
And cannot give us now!
The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day. When the sun is out and the wind is still, You’re one month on in the middle of May. But if you so much as dare to speak, a cloud come over the sunlit arch, And wind comes off a frozen peak, And you’re two months back in the middle of March.
May and June. Soft syllables, gentle names for the two best months in the garden year: cool, misty mornings gently burned away with a warming spring sun, followed by breezy afternoons and chilly nights. The discussion of philosophy is over; it’s time for work to begin.
When April steps aside for May,
Like diamonds all the rain-drops glisten;
Fresh violets open every day:
To some new bird each hour we listen.
Sweet May hath come to love us,
Flowers, trees, their blossoms don;
And through the blue heavens above us
The very clouds move on.
You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated. In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats, so you can know who you are, what you can rise from, how you can still come out of it.
Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.
A man’s character may be learned from the adjectives which he habitually uses in conversation.
When April steps aside for May,
Like diamonds all the rain-drops glisten;
Fresh violets open every day:
To some new bird each hour we listen.
“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,
Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between
Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.
I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
Of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.
In April, we cannot see sunflowers in France, so we might say the sunflowers do not exist. But the local farmers have already planted thousands of seeds, and when they look at the bare hills, they may be able to see the sunflowers already. The sunflowers are there. They lack only the conditions of sun, heat, rain and July. Just because we cannot see them does not mean that they do not exist.
Dirty days hath September
April June and November
From January up to May
The rain it raineth every day
All the rest have thirty-one
Without a blessed gleam of sun
And if any of them had two-and-thirty
They’d be just as wet and twice as dirty.
April hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
April Rain It is not raining rain to me, It’s raining daffodils; In every dimpled drop I see Wild flowers on the hills. The clouds of gray engulf the day And overwhelm the town; It is not raining rain to me, It’s raining roses down. It is not raining rain to me, But fields of clover bloom, Where any buccaneering bee May find a bed and room. A health unto the happy! A fig for him who frets!- It is not raining rain to me, It’s raining violets.
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies,
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower-but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
The roofs are shining from the rain,
The sparrows twitter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
Yet the back yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree-
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me.
What delights us in the spring is more a sensation than an appearance, more a hope than any visible reality. There is something in the softness of the air, in the lengthening of the days, in the very sounds and odors of the sweet time, that caresses us and consoles us after the rigorous weeks of winter.
Again the blackbirds sings; the streams Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, And tremble in the April showers The tassels of the maple flowers.
Every tear is answered by a blossom, Every sigh with songs and laughter blent, April-blooms upon the breezes toss them. April knows her own, and is content.
The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day. When the sun is out and the wind is still, You’re one month on in the middle of May. But if you so much as dare to speak, a cloud come over the sunlit arch, And wind comes off a frozen peak, And you’re two months back in the middle of March.
When April steps aside for May,
Like diamonds all the rain-drops glisten;
Fresh violets open every day:
To some new bird each hour we listen.
No days such honored days as these! While yet
Fair Aphrodite reigned, men seeking wide
For some fair thing which should forever bide
On earth, her beauteous memory to set
In fitting frame that no age could forget,
Her name in lovely April’s name did hide,
And leave it there, eternally allied
To all the fairest flowers Spring did beget.
Nothing is so beautiful as spring – when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.
So then the year is repeating its old story again. We are come once more, thank God! to its most charming chapter. The violets and the Mayflowers are as its inscriptions or vignettes. It always makes a pleasant impression on us, when we open again at these pages of the book of life.
The only thing that could spoil a day was people. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.
If we had not winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
To build a country, [Joseph] Stalin was obliged to use force and kill. Mao Tse-tung was obliged to use force and kill. To mention only two recent cases, without raking over the whole history of the world.
The sanction of force stands behind the medley of personal orders and regulations of Martial Law. The sanction of the people’s consent stands behind the hierarchy of laws. In one situation, the population is regimented into acquiescence. In the other, the population voluntarily establishes a contract with Parliament.
Every government, every country, has the right to exercise force when necessary.
A dreaded society is not a civilized society. The most progressive and powerful society in the civilized sense, is a society which has recognized its ethos, and come to terms with the past and the present, with religion and science. With modernism and mysticism, with materialism and spirituality; a society free of tension, a society rich in culture. Such a society cannot come with hocus-pocus formulas and with fraud. It has to flow from the depth of a divine search.
Don’t be discouraged by a failure. It can be a positive experience. Failure is, in a sense, the highway to success, inasmuch as every discovery of what is false leads us to seek earnestly after what is true, and every fresh experience points out some form of error which we shall afterwards carefully avoid.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.
There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate.
She is coming, my dove, my dear;
She is coming, my life, my fate;
The red rose cries, “She is near, she is near;”
And the white rose weeps, “She is late;”
The larkspur listens, “I hear; I hear;”
And the lily whispers, “I wait.
Love’s arms were wreathed about the neck of Hope,
And Hope kiss’d Love, and Love drew in her breath
In that close kiss and drank her whisper’d tales.
They said that Love would die when Hope was gone.
And Love mourn’d long, and sorrow’d after Hope;
At last she sought out Memory, and they trod
The same old paths where Love had walked with Hope,
And Memory fed the soul of Love with tears.
If January is the month of change, February is the month of lasting change. January is for dreamers… February is for doers
While it is February one can taste the full joys of anticipation. Spring stands at the gate with her finger on the latch.
Nothing in Nature is unbeautiful.
No man ever got very high by pulling other people down. The intelligent merchant does not knock his competitors. The sensible worker does not work those who work with him. Don’t knock your friends. Don’t knock your enemies. Don’t knock yourself.
So with the stretch of the white road before me,
Shining snow crystals rainbowed by the sun,
Fields that are white, stained with long, cool, blue shadows,
Strong with the strength of my horse as we run.
Joy in the touch of the wind and the sunlight!
Joy! With the vigorous earth I am one.
Winter is the king of showmen, Turning tree stumps into snowmen And houses into birthday cakes And spreading sugar over lakes. Smooth and clean and frosty white, The world looks good enough to bite. That’s the season to be young, Catching snowflakes on your tongue. Snow is snowy when it’s snowing, I’m sorry it’s slushy when it’s going.
I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.
The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul and a new nose; new feet, a new backbone, new ears, and new eyes. Unless a particular man made New Year resolutions, he would make no resolutions. Unless a man starts afresh about things, he will certainly do nothing effective.
Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, Whispering ‘it will be happier’.
Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.
Honest winter, snow clad and with the frosted beard, I can welcome not uncordially; but that long deferment of the calendar’s promise, that weeping loom of March and April, that bitter blast outraging the honor of May – how often has it robbed me of heart and hope.
But see, Orion sheds unwholesome dews; Arise, the pines a noxious shade diffuse; Sharp Boreas blows, and nature feels decay, Time conquers all, and we must time obey.
Look not at the face, young girl, look at the heart. The heart of a handsome young man is often deformed. There are hearts in which love does not keep. Young girl, the pine is not beautiful; it is not beautiful like the poplar, but it keeps its foliage in winter.
Antisthenes says that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze as soon as they are uttered, and after some time then thaw and become audible, so that words spoken in winter go unheard until the next summer.
Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed
The speculating rooks at their nests cawed
And saw from elm tops, delicate as flower of grass,
What we below could not see, Winter pass.
Adversity draws men together and produces beauty and harmony in life’s relationships, just as the cold of winter produces ice-flowers on the window-panes, which vanish with the warmth.
Spring, summer, and fall fill us with hope; winter alone reminds us of the human condition.
Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.
There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you…. In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.
Spring passes and one remembers one’s innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one’s exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one’s reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one’s perseverance.
A good dog never dies. He always stays. He walks besides you on crisp autumn days when frost is on the fields and winter’s drawing near. His head is within our hand in his old way.
Most importantly, what you get from a greasy spoon is a certain kind of smell that has been almost legislated out of existence. It is cigaretty, certainly, and it also has the catch-throat quality of smoking fat. It is a warm, companionable fug that rises to meet you as you step through the door on a late autumn day and it is how public places used to smell in my childhood in the 1970s. It is real, it is human, and it beats anything I know.
Live. And Live Well. BREATHE. Breathe in and Breathe deeply. Be PRESENT. Do not be past. Do not be future. Be now. On a crystal clear, breezy 70 degree day, roll down the windows and FEEL the wind against your skin. Feel the warmth of the sun. If you run, then allow those first few breaths on a cool Autumn day to FREEZE your lungs and do not just be alarmed, be ALIVE. Get knee-deep in a novel and LOSE track of time. If you bike, pedal HARD.
I like to be bought flowers and taken out for dinner. I like a man to be a gentleman. I don’t like to be treated as if I am brainless. I like to be respected and to give respect.
I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; let fortune’s bubbles rise and fall; who sows a field, or trains a flower, or plants a tree, is more than all.
As for marigolds, poppies, hollyhocks, and valorous sunflowers, we shall never have a garden without them, both for their own sake, and for the sake of old-fashioned folks, who used to love them.
There is nothing you can see that is not a flower; there is nothing you can think that is not the moon.
Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.
The splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of it’s scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.
The artist is the confidant of nature, flowers carry on dialogues with him through the graceful bending of their stems and the harmoniously tinted nuances of their blossoms, Every flower has a cordial word which nature directs towards him.
People give flowers as present because flowers contain true meaning of love. Anyone who tries to posses a flower will have to watch its beauty fading. But if you simply look at a flower in the field, you’ll keep it forever. That is what the forest taught me. That you will never be mine, and that is why i will never lose you.
When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not.
Color is, in brief terms, the type of love. Hence it is especially connected with the blossoming of the earth; and again, with its fruits; also, with the spring and fall of the leaf, and with the morning and evening of the day, in order to show the waiting of love about the birth and death of man.
Sweet is the air with the budding haws, and the valley stretching for miles below Is white with blossoming cherry-trees, as if just covered with lighted snow.
There are a thousand flowers blossoming in spring, The magical light of the full moon in autumn; There is a breeze in summer, And snow in winter; And if vanities don’t hang in my mind, I shall rejoice at any time and place.
We have the promises of God as thick as daisies in summer meadows, that death, which men most fear, shall be to us the most blessed of experiences, if we trust in him. Death is unclasping; joy, breaking out in the desert; the heart, come to its blossoming time! Do we call it dying when the bud bursts into flower?
Every flower is a soul blossoming in nature.
Happiness radiates like the fragrance from a flower, and draws all good things toward you.
You have to appreciate every single day that you’re alive. Life is a little bit like a garden – you have to find time to plant the seeds for beautiful flowers to grow.
Kind hearts are the gardens, Kind thoughts are the roots, Kind words are the flowers, Kind deeds are the fruits, Take care of your garden And keep out the weeds, Fill it with sunshine, Kind words, and Kind deeds.
The unique personality which is the real life in me, I can not gain unless I search for the real life, the spiritual quality, in others. I am myself spiritually dead unless I reach out to the fine quality dormant in others. For it is only with the god enthroned in the innermost shrine of the other, that the god hidden in me, will consent to appear.
Libraries are as the shrine where all the relics of the ancient saints, full of true virtue, and that without delusion or imposture, are preserved and reposed.
I have been given many teachings by Sarutahiko-no-O-Kami. OKami told me, ‘By the work of Takehaya Susanowo no Mikoto, you will worship the Ame no Murakumo KuKamisamuhara Ryu O (Kami of Takemusu) and build an Aiki shrine and dojo.’ Then I built the Aiki shrine and dojo in Iwama, Ibaragi prefecture in 1940.
My relationship, my friendships with Grateful Dead, has shaped me. Our house is a shrine to all our musical heroes.
I remember many years ago, I asked [Dalai Lama] about exile and he said: “Well, exile is good because it’s brought me and my people closer to reality,” and reality is almost a shrine before which he sits. Exile brings us up against the wall and forces us to rise to the challenge of the moment.
Aided and abetted by corrupt analysts, patients who have nothing better to do with their lives often use the psychoanalytic situation to transform insignificant childhood hurts into private shrines at which they worship unceasingly the enormity of the offenses committed against them. This solution is immensely flattering to the patients — as are all forms of unmerited self-aggrandizement; it is immensely profitable for the analysts — as are all forms pandering to people’s vanity; and it is often immensely unpleasant for nearly everyone else in the patient’s life.
Our hearts are the shrine; that is where God should be installed. Our good thoughts are the flowers to worship Him. Good deeds form the worship, good words form the hymns and love forms the offering.
If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
For in their hearts doth Nature stir them so Then people long on pilgrimage to go And palmers to be seeking foreign strands To distant shrines renowned in sundry lands.
The library is not a shrine for the worship of books. It is not a temple where literary incense must be burned or where one’s one devotion to the bound book is expressed in ritual. A library, to modify the famous metaphor of Socrates, should be the delivery room for the birth of ideas – a place where history comes to life.
It is a good practice to write at least on page of mantra daily. Many people get better concentration by writing than by chanting. Try also to inculcate in children the habit of chanting and neatly writing the mantra. This will help to improve their handwriting, too. The book in which the mantra is written should not be thrown around; it should be carefully kept in our meditation or shrine room.
Aided and abetted by corrupt analysts, patients who have nothing better to do with their lives often use the psychoanalytic situation to transform insignificant childhood hurts into private shrines at which they worship unceasingly the enormity of the offenses committed against them. This solution is immensely flattering to the patients — as are all forms of unmerited self-aggrandizement; it is immensely profitable for the analysts — as are all forms pandering to people’s vanity; and it is often immensely unpleasant for nearly everyone else in the patient’s life.
Imagine going to the holy land in Israel, whether you’re a Christian or a Jew or a Muslim, and start carving up the mountain of Zion. It’s an insult to our entire being. It’s bad enough getting four white faces carved in up there [on Mount Rushmore], the shrine of hypocrisy.
To bear the country’s disgrace is to rule the shrines of soil and grain. To bear the country’s misfortunes is to be the king of the world.
Memory, the priestess, kills the present and offers its heart to the shrine of the dead past.
In Nepal, the phenomenon is reversed. Time is a stick of incense that burns without being consumed. One day can seem like a week; a week, like months. Mornings stretch out and crack their spines with the yogic impassivity of house cats. Afternoons bulge with a succulent ripeness, like fat peaches. There is time enough to do everything – write a letter, eat breakfast, read the paper, visit a shrine or two, listen to the birds, bicycle downtown to change money, buy postcards, shop for Buddhas – and arrive home in time for lunch.
Mind is a door that leads you outside in the world; meditation is the door that leads you to your interiority – to the very innermost shrine of your being.
There is always an easy solution to every human problem – neat, plausible and wrong.
Politics ought to be the part time profession of every citizen who would protect the rights and privileges of free people and who would preserve what is good and fruitful in our national heritage.
There are only two choices: A police state in which all dissent is suppressed or rigidly controlled; or a society where law is responsive to human needs.
The first duty of a wise advocate is to convince his opponents that he understands their arguments, and sympathizes with their just feelings.
There is a beautiful expression of this in the Chandogya Upanishad: ‘There is this City of Brahman, (that is the body), and in this city there is a shrine, and in that shrine there is a small lotus, and in that lotus there is a small space, (akasa). Now what exists within that small space, that is to be sought, that is to be understood.’ This is the great discovery of the Upanishads, this inner shrine, this guha, or cave of the heart, where the inner meaning of life, of all human existence, is to be found.
I never wavered in my certainty that God did not exist. I was simply liberated by the thought that there might be a way to engage with religion without having to subscribe to its supernatural content – a way, to put it in more abstract terms, to think about Fathers without upsetting my respectful memory of my own father. I recognized that my continuing resistance to theories of an afterlife or of heavenly residents was no justification for giving up on the music, buildings, prayers, rituals, feasts, shrines, pilgrimages, communal meals and illustrated manuscripts of the faiths.
Drink and dance and laugh and lie,
Love the reeling midnight through
For tomorrow we shall die!
But, alas, we never do
Though jealousy be produced by love, as ashes are by fire, yet jealousy extinguishes love as ashes smother the flame.
The sun and stars that float in the open air
The apple shaped earth and we upon it
Surely the drift of them is something grand
I do not know what it is, except that is grand
And that it is happiness.
Men might go to heaven with half the labor they put to go to hell, if they would but venture their industry in the right way.
Man perfected by society is the best of all animals; he is the most terrible of all when he lives without law, and without justice.
With Malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as god gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in.
There are three marks of a superior man: being virtuous, he is free from anxiety; being wise, he is free from perplexity; being brave, he is free from fear.
There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root, and it may be that he who bestows the largest amount of time and money on the needy is doing the most by his mode of life to produce that misery which he strives in vain to relieve.
Sit down before fact as a little child, be prepared to give up every preconceived notion, follow humbly wherever and to whatever abysses nature leads, or you shall learn nothing.
Only those are fit to live who do not fear to die; and none are fit to die who have shrunk from the joy of life and the duty of life. Both life and death are parts of the same Great Adventure.
All this hideous doubt, despair and dark confusion of the soul a lonely man must know, for he is united to no image save that which he creates himself.
It behoves every man who values liberty of conscience for himself, to resist invasions of it in the case of other’s or their case may, by change of circumstances, become his own.
Don’t flatter yourself that friendship authorizes you to say disagreeable things to your intimates. The nearer you come into relation with a person, the more necessary do tact and courtesy become. Except in cases of necessity, which are rare, leave your friend to learn unpleasant things from his enemies; they are ready enough to tell them.
However difficult it is to be the homely friend of a reputed beauty, there are certain benefits. Most days, the humiliation of being the second choice is outweighed by the overflow of disappointed gentlemen.
Go through your phone book, call people and ask them to drive you to the airport. The ones who will drive you are your true friends. The rest aren’t bad people; they’re just acquaintances.
Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.
Here and there, human nature may be great in times of trial; but generally speaking, it is its weakness and not its strength that appears in a sick chamber: it is selfishness and impatience rather than generosity and fortitude, that one hears of. There is so little real friendship in the world! and unfortunately, there are so many who forget to think seriously till it is almost too late.
Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence. True friendship is a plant of slow growth, and must undergo and withstand the shocks of adversity before it is entitled to the appellation.
A good friend can tell you what is the matter with you in a minute. He may not seem such a good friend after telling.
तपाईंको समय सीमित छ, त्यसैले कसैले जीवनमा यसलाई र्व्यर्थ नबनाउनुहोस् । मतभेदको पासोमा नपर्नुहोस्, जुन अरू व्यक्तिको सोचको नतिजाको साथ बाँचिरहेको छ ।
बाच्न पाउनु सबैभन्दा महत्वपूर्ण कुरा हो । अधिकांश मानिसहरू उपस्थित छन्, यो सबै हो
।
जीवनमा सबैभन्दा ठूलो महिमा भनेको कहिल्यै पनि नलडनु हो, र उठनु हो हरेक चोटि जब हामी लडछौं ।
The moral of my story is the sun always comes out after the storm. Being optimistic and surrounding yourself with positive loving people is for me, living life on the sunny side of the street.
People tell you the world looks a certain way. Parents tell you how to think. Schools tell you how to think. TV. Religion. And then at a certain point, if you’re lucky, you realize you can make up your own mind. Nobody sets the rules but you. You can design your own life.
Be courageous. Challenge orthodoxy. Stand up for what you believe in. When you are in your rocking chair talking to your grandchildren many years from now, be sure you have a good story to tell.
We are always doing something for Posterity, but I would fain see Posterity do something for us.
But this long run is a misleading guide to current affairs. In the long run we are all dead.
if we win, nobody will care. if we lose, there will be nobody to care.
Wise men, though all laws were abolished, would lead the same lives.
Since wars begin in the minds of men, it is in the minds of men that the defences of peace must be constructed.
Nations have recently been led to borrow billions for war; no nation has ever borrowed largely for education. Probably, no nation is rich enough to pay for both war and civilization. We must make our choice; we cannot have both.
One Should never trust a woman who tells one her real age. A woman who would tell one that would tell one anything.
At present the peace of the world has been preserved not by statesman but by capitalists.
There are no uninteresting things, there are only uninterested people.
The real significance of crime is its being a breach of faith with the community of mankind.
Death and life have their determined appointments; riches and honors depend upon heaven.
It goes far toward making a man faithful to let him understand that you think him so; and he that does but suspect I will deceive him gives me a sort of right to do it.
When lovely woman stoops to folly
And finds too late that men betray
What charm can soothe her melancholy ?
What art can wash her guilt away ?
A fool may be known by six things: anger, without cause, speech, without profit; change, without progress; inquiry, without object; putting trust in a stranger, and mistaking foes for friends.
The Government being the people’s business, it necessarily follows that its operations should be at all times open to the public view. Publicity is there fore as essential to honest administration as freedom of speech is to representative government.
Private opinion creates public opinion. Public opinion overflows eventually into national behaviour and national behaviour, as things are arranged at present, can make or mar the world. That is why private opinion and private behaviour and private conversation are so terrifying important.
Everything changes continually. What is history, indeed, but a record of change. And if there had been very few changes in the past, there would have been little of history to write.
A sound body is a first class thing; a sound mind is an even better thing; but the thing that counts for most in the individual as in the nation is character, the sum of those qualities which make a man a good man and a woman a good woman.
Justice is itself the great standing policy of civil society; and any eminent departure from it, under any circumstances, lies under the suspicion of being no policy at all.
Occasionally in life there are those moments of unutterable fulfillment which cannot be completely explained by those symbols called words. Their meanings can only be articulated by the inaudible language of the heart.
True patriotism sometimes requires of men to act exactly contrary, at one perion, to that which it does at another and the motive which impels them the desire to do right is precisely the same.
Anyone can carry his burden, however hard,until nightfall. Anyone can do his work, however hard, for one day. Anyone can live sweetly, patiently, lovingly, purely, till the sun goes down. And this is all that life really means.
Our Natonal debt after all is an internal debt owed not only by the nation but to the nation. If our children have to pay interest on it they will pay that interest to themselves. A reasonable internal debt will not impoverish our children or put the nation into bankruptcy.
The Contagion of crime is like that od the plague. Criminals collected together corrupt each other. They are worse than ever when at the termination of their punishment, they return to society.
Our form of government does not enter into rivalry with the institutions of others. We do not copy our neighbours, but are an example to them. It is true that we are called a democracy, for the administration is in the hands of the many and not of the few.
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महोत्तरी एक्ष्प्रेस्स , देशको नेपाली भाषा दैनिक, नेपालको पहिलो निजी सञ्चालित नेपाल ब्रोडसिटको रूपमा २०७९ सालमा सुरु भएको थियो। द पोष्ट नेपालमा दोस्रो सबैभन्दा व्यापक समाचार हो। यसको स्थापना पछि, पोस्टले विश्वसनीयता, सत्यता, र ताजा समाचारहरूको लागि प्रतिष्ठा खेती गरेको छ। द Mahottari Express पोस्टको राजनीतिक, व्यापार, खेलकुद, र कला र संस्कृति रिपोर्टिङ केही नेपालका, र व्यापक विश्वका प्रमुख बुद्धिजीवीहरू र विश्लेषकहरूको रायको साथ पूरक छ। 2079 देखि, Mahottari Express ले नवीनतम समाचार दृश्यहरू उत्पादन गर्दै आएको छ पछिल्लो समय पोष्टले भ्रष्टाचार, दुर्व्यवहार र यौन दुव्र्यवहारका विषयमा अनुसन्धान थालेको छ । 66113 भन्दा बढी पाठकहरूको अनुमानित दैनिक पाठकहरूको साथ, o पोष्टले नेपालमा नेपाली कथाहरू स्थानीय र अन्तर्राष्ट्रिय दर्शकहरूलाई सुनाउन नयाँ भाषाको विकास गरेको छ। पोष्ट नैतिक पत्रकारिताप्रति प्रतिबद्ध छ जसले तथ्य र सत्यलाई विशेषाधिकार दिन्छ। यो पोस्ट काठमाडौं र जनकपुरबाट एकैसाथ प्रकाशित हुन्छ ।
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