This site is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Alan William Smolowe who gave birth to the creation of this database.
Warren Bennis, fully Warren Gamaliel Bennis
Great Groups need to know that the person at the top will fight like a tiger for them.
Change | Life | Life | Meaning | Opportunity | People | Search | Think |
Warren Bennis, fully Warren Gamaliel Bennis
With a vision, the executive provides the all-important bridge from the present to the future of the organization.
Wayne Dyer, fully Wayne Walter Dyer
Motivation is when you get hold of an idea ... inspiration is the reverse - when an idea gets hold of you.
Wayne Dyer, fully Wayne Walter Dyer
Choose to be in close proximity to people who are empowering, who appeal to your sense of connection to intention, who see the greatness in you, who feel connected to God, who live a life that gives evidence that Spirit has found celebration through them.
Energy | Fault | Life | Life | People | Receive | Search | Fault |
It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day; the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet.
Battle | Daughter | Faith | Marriage | Poetry | Prowess | Rites | Satire | Surrender |
Wei Wu Wei, pen name for Terence James Stannus Gray
It is only the artificial ego that suffers. The man who has transcended his false ‘me’ no longer identifies with his suffering.
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W. H. Auden, fully Wystan Hugh Auden
Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links, behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks, under the look of fatigue, the attack of migraine and the sigh there is always another story, there is more than meets the eye.
Experience | Obscurity | Obscurity | People | Poetry |
W. H. Auden, fully Wystan Hugh Auden
The friends who met here and embraced are gone, each to his own mistake.
W. H. Auden, fully Wystan Hugh Auden
America has always been a country of amateurs where the professional, that is to say, the man who claims authority as a member of an elite which knows the law in some field or other, is an object of distrust and resentment.
Poetry |
W. H. Auden, fully Wystan Hugh Auden
But in my arms till break of day let the living creature lie, mortal, guilty, but to me the entirely beautiful.
W. H. Auden, fully Wystan Hugh Auden
Put the car away; when life fails what's the good of going to Wales? Here am I, here are you: but what does it mean? What are we going to do?
Poetry |
W. H. Auden, fully Wystan Hugh Auden
To the man-in-the-street, who, I'm sorry to say, is a keen observer of life. The word Intellectual suggests straight away. A man who's untrue to his wife.
Poetry | Responsibility |
W. H. Auden, fully Wystan Hugh Auden
The truly tragic kind of suffering is the kind produced and defiantly insisted upon by the hero himself so that, instead of making him better, it makes him worse and when he dies he is not reconciled to the law but defiant, that is, damned. Lear is not a tragic hero, Othello is.
Action | Deeds | Men | Mistake | Poetry | Time | World | Deeds |
W. E. H. Lecky, fully William Edward Hartpole Lecky
The stately ship is seen no more, the fragile skiff attains the shore; and while the great and wise decay, and all their trophies pass away, some sudden thought, some careless rhyme, still floats above the wrecks of Time.
Age | Belief | Culture | Existence | Faith | Ideas | Imagination | Legends | Life | Life | Light | Little | Poetry | Religion | System | Time |
If sex were all, then every trembling hand could make us squeak, like dolls, the wished-for words.
The second I left my old life's cowpath, I discovered I didn't need a drink. It became possible to stand still in the dark under the oaks, hands at my sides, and watch and wait.
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Today is my thirtieth birthday and I sit on the ocean wave in the schoolyard and wait for Kate and think of nothing. Now in the thirty-first year of my dark pilgrimage on this earth and knowing less than I ever knew before, having learned only to recognize merde when I see it, having inherited no more from my father than a good nose for merde, for every species of shit that flies—my only talent—smelling merde from every quarter, living in fact in the very century of merde, the great shithouse of scientific humanism where needs are satisfied, everyone becomes an anyone, a warm and creative person, and prospers like a dung beetle, and one hundred percent of people are humanists and ninety-eight percent believe in God, and men are dead, dead, dead; and the malaise has settled like a fall-out and what people really fear is not that the bomb will fall but that the bomb will not fall—on this my thirtieth birthday, I know nothing and there is nothing to do but fall prey to desire.
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