Not just Human Resources...

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST TELL me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream ! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal ; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife ! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act,— act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead ! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on ...

The Invitation By Oriah Mountain Dreamer It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, And if you dare to dream of meeting Your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool For love, for your dreams, For the adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, If you have been opened by life's betrayals, Or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, Mine or your own, Without moving To hide it or fade it or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, Mine or your own, If you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes Without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human. I want to know if you can see beauty Even when it is...