Quotes about retire, page 3
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 2
ALL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began:
“Great queen, what you command me to relate
Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:
An empire from its old foundations rent, 5
And ev’ry woe the Trojans underwent;
A peopled city made a desart place;
All that I saw, and part of which I was:
Not ev’n the hardest of our foes could hear,
Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear. 10
And now the latter watch of wasting night,
And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;
But, since you take such int’rest in our woe,
And Troy’s disastrous end desire to know,
I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell 15
What in our last and fatal night befell.
“By destiny compell’d, and in despair,
The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,
And by Minerva’s aid a fabric rear’d,
Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d: 20
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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Don't simply retire from something; have something to retire to.
quote by Harry Emerson Fosdick
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B: I: The Meaning of 'Wild
Death's the comfiest place
You could retire to,
After all the strife,
Like bed's the softest place
After a hard day's life.
But dreams, they can be wild.
Containing all the past,
All the future too,
Death must be a wild, wild place
You must retire to.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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For Those Who Finally Quit
what is then the next thing
to do? retire
retreat
and hide?
consider this
what i did when i too feel like
the same thing that
you have
i retire but only to recuperate
i retreat only to evaluate
and hide but only to recharge
what energy i have lost
the next morning i shall move
again
another timing and strategy
another hope
and expectation that finally
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why Can't I Simply Retire In Quiet?
WHY CAN’T I SIMPLY RETIRE IN QUIET
Why can’t I simply retire in quiet
At peace with what I have done?
What is this ‘greed’ in me
Which always needs to write more
Which always seeks a greater recognition?
Which always expects some future day
In which all will be made alright?
What is this greed in me
Which needs to go on and on
As if I were forever young in hope?
Why can’t I simply rest in peace in my own life
And quietly accept I have done what I have done
And now am free to enjoy my life
As best I can
Until the end?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Song XXX. The Lovely Brown Maid
When May--scented zephyrs breathe gladness around,
Enliv'ning the meadow and grove,
And in each mossy cottage Contentment is found,
Crown'd with health, peace, retirement, and love;
Then far from the village the swains they retire,
At noon to the lonely sweet shade;
Grant me Health, rosy Health, all I ask and desire,
With a smile from my lovely brown maid.
When my flocks bleat around me upon the wide plain,
Contented I lie at my ease;
And at eve I retire, free from sorrow and pain,
To enjoy the soft fragrant breeze:
When music and gladness are heard thro' the grove,
By moonlight I steal from the shade,
And o'er hills and deep valleys unheeded I rove,
For a smile from my lovely brown maid.
Each morn I rise happy, each night I lie down
With a heart free from envy and care;
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poem by Robert Anderson
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An Early Retirement
There's an ad on TV about retiring.
I'm not worried about retiring.
I'm retiring from life early.
It means I'm not... traditionally
going to live long enough to retire.
Just like all the old boiler makers in trade.
Who worked all those years, welding
inside pipes, and other enclosed spaces, places.
Sucking in all those harmful toxic fumes.
None of them lived long enough to retire.
Just like my father the carpenter.
An era when honest men daily worked up a blinder.
Just like my father hardest working carpenter.
Who worked all those long years, man-handling
heavy loads. Concreting, steel, heavy beams.
Straining the heart, arteries, neck, back, hands.
Working up a triple hernia. Before being killed
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Human Existence On Earth
How do you define human existence on earth?
Some say our life on earth is like a journey
The journey begins from the day we are born
And terminates the day we die
Others say that our life is a school
We start learning from the day we are born
Everyday of our life on earth
There is always something new to learn
The schooling ends the day we die
Few compare our life on earth to the sun
Our sunrise is the day we are born
While our sun sets on the day we die
Our life can also be likened to a flower
The flower is planted the day we are born
As we grow up, our flower germinates
When we reach middle-age
Our flower blooms and sparkles
After we retire, our flower fades away
Life of humans can also be equated to the four seasons
The spring covers birth to adolescent years
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poem by Julius Babarinsa
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Il Fait Froid
L'hiver blanchit le dur chemin
Tes jours aux méchants sont en proie.
La bise mord ta douce main ;
La haine souffle sur ta joie.
La neige emplit le noir sillon.
La lumière est diminuée...
Ferme ta porte à l'aquilon !
Ferme ta vitre à la nuée !
Et puis laisse ton coeur ouvert !
Le coeur, c'est la sainte fenêtre.
Le soleil de brume est couvert ;
Mais Dieu va rayonner peut-être !
Doute du bonheur, fruit mortel ;
Doute de l'homme plein d'envie ;
Doute du prêtre et de l'autel ;
Mais crois à l'amour, ô ma vie !
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poem by Victor Hugo
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Retirement
You work all your life and you wait for that special day
That you can retire, and dance the night away.
Anxiety and tension building Up in your chest.
You know you can’t control it But you do your very best.
Friends are gathering around you And they’re calling your name
You are now a short timer And they’re waiting for the same.
You think that you won’t have to Get up to the sound of the clock
But when you retire, there is no turning back.
For the first time in your life You are not on a time schedule.
To get up to that sound Wash up, get dressed, have a cup of joe.
And the weight in your legs Make you move very slow.
Your friends and co workers ask:
How can you leave them all behind?
You look at them and smile For you know they’ll all be fine.
You’ve worked together for many a year
Good times, bad times, you all have shared.
But it’s time for you to go your way You have to leave, you can not stay.
So many things that you want to do And to your heart you must be true.
So you work your final day and Get comments from everyone you know.
You will count the hours leading to the end
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poem by Louis Rams
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