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1 " Lord, set me a path by the side of the road.I pray this be a part of your plan,Then heap on the burden & pile on the load, And I'll trek it the best that I can.Please bless me with patience, Touch strength to my backThen cut me loose and I'll goJust like the burro toting his pack,The oxen ploughing his rowAnd once on this journey, a witness for YouToward thy way the Truth and the LightShine forth my countenance steady and trueFor the pathway to goodness and rightAnd lest I should falter And lest I should failLet all who know that I triedFor I am a bunglar, feeble & frailWhen You, dear Lord, I've deniedSo blessed be the day Your judgement comes dueAnd blessed by thy mercies bestowedAnd blessed be this journey, all praises to YouFor this path by the side of the road "
― Nimblewill Nomad
2 " Gardening is the handiest excuse for being a philosopher. Nobody guesses, nobody accuses, nobody knows, but there you are, Plato in the peonies, Socrates force-growing his own hemlock. A man toting a sack of blood manure across his lawn is kin to Atlas letting the world spin easy on his shoulder. "
― Ray Bradbury , Dandelion Wine (Green Town, #1)
3 " He had the tendency, unfortunate for a new member of the committee, to like if not the rich themselves, at least their activities and surroundings, and to dislike the poor; a woman in rags toting a baby, barefoot children, made him feel sadistic rather than compassionate.His socialism, then, had the impatience and unfriendliness of a fashionable doctor forced to attend a tramp run over in the street. "
4 " Up steps, three, six, nine, twelve! Slap! Their palms hit the library door. * * * They opened the door and stepped in.They stopped.The library deeps lay waiting for them.Out in the world, not much happened. But here in the special night, a land bricked with paper and leather, anything might happen, always did. Listen! and you heard ten thousand people screaming so high only dogs feathered their ears. A million folk ran toting cannons, sharpening guillotines; Chinese, four abreast marched on forever. Invisible, silent, yes, but Jim and Will had the gift of ears and noses as well as the gift of tongues. This was a factory of spices from far countries. Here alien deserts slumbered. Up front was the desk where the nice old lady, Miss Watriss, purple-stamped your books, but down off away were Tibet and Antarctica, the Congo. There went Miss Wills, the other librarian, through Outer Mongolia, calmly toting fragments of Peiping and Yokohama and the Celebes. "
― Ray Bradbury , Something Wicked This Way Comes (Green Town, #2)
5 " The hedonistic lifestyle is difficult to achieve when you're still carrying your own gear. Trust me that you don't feel glamorous with a 60-pound amp in your arms it's a lot less sexy than toting a vodka gimlet and impossible to do in heels. "