This site is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Alan William Smolowe who gave birth to the creation of this database.
Science has been arranging, classifying, methodizing, simplifying, everything except itself. It has made possible the tremendous modern development of power of organization which has so multiplied the effective power of human effort as to make the differences from the past seem to be of kind rather than of degree. It has organized itself very imperfectly. Scientific men are only recently realizing that the principles which apply to success on a large scale in transportation and manufacture and general staff work to apply them; that the difference between a mob and an army does not depend upon occupation or purpose but upon human nature; that the effective power of a great number of scientific men may be increased by organization just as the effective power of a great number of laborers may be increased by military discipline.
Art | Opinion | Order | Patience | People | Skill | Study | Sympathy | Will | Wishes | Art | Learn |
Patience is not to clench your teeth and do nothing. It means to be prescient enough to trust the end result of the process. What is patience? It means looking at the thorns and see the rose, to look at the night and see the dawn. Impatience means to be so myopic as to see the result. Whoever loves God remains patient, because he knows that it takes time incomplete moon to be full.
Enough | God | Impatience | Means | Patience | Time | Trust | God |
The attractive idea that we can now have a parliament of man with authority to control the conduct of nations by legislation or an international police force with power to enforce national conformity to rules of right conduct is a counsel of perfection.
She prizes not such trifles as these are: The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd Up in my heart, which I have given already But not deliver'd.
Patience |
So, when this loose behavior I throw off and pay the debt I never promised, by how much better than my word I am, by so much shall I falsify men's hopes; and, like bright metal on a sullen ground, my reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault, shall show more goodly and attract more eyes than that which hath no foil to set it off.
Since, then, my office hath so far prevailed That, face to face and royal eye to eye, You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me If I demand before this royal view, What rub or what impediment there is Why that the naked, poor, and mangled Peace, Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, Should not, in this best garden of the world, Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage.
She never yet was foolish that was fair, for even her folly helped her to an heir.
Elizabeth Browning, fully Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I would build a cloudy House for my thoughts to live in; when for earth too fancy-loose and too low for Heaven! Hush! I talk my dream aloud - I build it bright to see, - I build it on the moonlit cloud, to which I looked with thee.
We are born with a body that experiences pain and comfort, a heart that suffers and feels joy, a mind that strives and is peaceful, a spirit that yearns for both solitude and communion with others, and a contract on earth that has a beginning and an end. Each one of us knows this, and yet, each one of us spends much of our time swimming against the current of life's reality. The spiritual path teaches us how to float on our backs, relaxed and aware, in the waters of reality. The Buddhists define spirituality as shamatha, or 'tranquil abiding.'
Art | Attention | Culture | Model | Mourning | Patience | Loss | Art |
Symptom Recital: I do not like my state of mind; I'm bitter, querulous, unkind. I hate my legs, I hate my hands, I do not yearn for lovelier lands. I dread the dawn's recurrent light; I hate to go to bed at night. I snoot at simple, earnest folk. I cannot take the gentlest joke. I find no peace in paint or type. My world is but a lot of tripe. I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted. For what I think, I'd be arrested. I am not sick, I am not well. My quondam dreams are shot to hell. My soul is crushed, my spirit sore; I do not like me any more. I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse. I ponder on the narrow house. I shudder at the thought of men... I'm due to fall in love again.
She wanted to live, and live fully, and to give life, she who loved life! What was the good of existing, if you couldn't give yourself?
Patience |
If , then, we desire a simple test of the quality of our spiritual life, a consideration of the tranquility, gentleness and strength with which we deal with the circumstances of our outward life will serve us better than anything that is based on the loftiness of our religious notions, or fervor of our religious feelings.