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Showing posts with label benevolence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label benevolence. Show all posts

Sunday, March 24, 2024

Sunday, January 03, 2021

Post #3053

It is ever true that he who does nothing for others, does nothing for himself.
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Sunday, April 12, 2020

Post #3014

Riches without charity are worth nothing. They are a blessing only to him who makes them a blessing to others.
—Henry Fielding

Friday, January 03, 2020

Post #2995

Carve your name on hearts, not on marble.
—Charles Spurgeon

Thursday, January 02, 2020

Friday, September 07, 2018

Post #2650

A benefit consists not in what is done or given, but in the intention of the giver or doer.
—Seneca

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Monday, January 25, 2016

Post #1996

I had rather never receive a kindness than never bestow one. Not to return a benefit is the greater sin, but not to confer it is the earlier. 
—Seneca

Thursday, December 18, 2014

Post #1709

Genuine benevolence is not stationary, but peripatetic. It goeth about doing good.
 —William Nevins

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The Penalty of Leadership

In every field of human endeavor, he that is first must perpetually live in the white light of publicity. Whether the leadership be vested in a man or in a manufactured product, emulation and envy are ever at work. In art, in literature, in music, in industry, the reward and the punishment are always the same. The reward is widespread recognition; the punishment, fierce denial and detraction. When a man’s work becomes a standard for the whole world, it also becomes a target for the shafts of the envious few. If his work be mediocre, he will be left severely alone – if he achieve a masterpiece, it will set a million tongues a -wagging. Jealousy does not protrude its forked tongue at the artist who produces a commonplace painting. Whatsoever you write, or paint, or play, or sing, or build, no one will strive to surpass or to slander you unless your work be stamped with the seal of genius. Long, long after a great work or a good work has been done, those who are disappointed or envious, continue to cry out that it cannot be done. Spiteful little voices in the domain of art were raised against our own Whistler as a mountebank, long after the big world had acclaimed him its greatest artistic genius. Multitudes flocked to Bayreuth to worship at the musical shrine of Wagner, while the little group of those whom he had dethroned and displaced argued angrily that he was no musician at all. The little world continued to protest that Fulton could never build a steamboat, while the big world flocked to the river banks to see his boat steam by. The leader is assailed because he is a leader, and the effort to equal him is merely added proof of that leadership. Failing to equal or to excel, the follower seeks to depreciate and to destroy – but only confirms once more the superiority of that which he strives to supplant. There is nothing new in this. It is as old as the world and as old as human passions – envy, fear, greed, ambition, and the desire to surpass. And it all avails nothing. If the leader truly leads, he remains – the leader. Master-poet, master-painter, master-workman, each in his turn is assailed, and each holds his laurels through the ages. That which is good or great makes itself known, no matter how loud the clamor of denial. That which deserves to live — lives.
written by Theodore F. MacManus

A deadly viper once bit a hole snipe's hide; But 'twas the viper, not the snipe, that died.

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