Quote

Do you know that the tendrils of graft and corruption have become mighty interlacing roots so that even men who would like to be honest are tripped and trapped by them?

Agnes Sligh Turnbull

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Agnes Sligh Turnbull
Age: 93 †
Born: 1888
Born: October 14
Died: 1982
Died: January 31
Author
Writer
Pennsylvania
United States
Men
Mighty
Like
Trapped
Corruption
Roots
Interlacing
Honest
Tendrils
Become
Graft
Even
Tripped
Would
Dishonesty

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There is still vitality under the winter snow, even though to the casual eye it seems to be dead.
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If a diplomat says yes, he means perhaps. If he says perhaps he means no. And if he says no, he's the hell of a diplomat.
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When the desire ain't on me I don't need help. When it is on me I don't want any. See? Like the old fellah that never mended his roof. Said on a wet day he couldn't do it and on a dry day it was as good as anybody's.
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Defeat in itself was part and parcel of the great gambling game of politics. A man who could not accept it and try again was not of the stuff of which leaders are made.
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The idea of perfection always gives one a chance to talk without knowing facts.
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Learn to drink the cup of life as it comes.
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Dogs' lives are too short. Their only fault, really.
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I think we foreshorten our own viewpoint if we consider any state of mind, or society, or government as final. Growth and change! We can't get away from them.
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A country-bred man can always learn to get on with city people, but a town-bred fellah never gets the real hang of the country. You can put city polish on a man, but by golly, it seems you can't ever rub it off him.
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[On religion:] Wasn't it invented by man for a kind of solace? It's as though he had said, 'I'll make me a nice comfortable garment to shut out the heat and the cold,' and then it ends by becoming a strait-jacket.
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Burning logs can carry on quite a conversation! ... Have you ever heard apple wood talking? It's the most loquacious of all. You really can't get a word in edgeways.
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You must learn to drink the cup of life as it comes ... without stirring it up from the bottom. That's where the bitter dregs are!
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the human soul, by once suffering as much as it is capable of, purchases a strange and terrible immunity to all the rest of life's sorrows.
Agnes Sligh Turnbull