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I have grown past hate and bitterness,
I see the world as one;
But though I can no longer hate,
My son is still my son.
All men at God's round table sit,
And all men must be fed;
But this loaf in my hand,
This loaf is my son's bread.

— Mary Gilmore

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More quotes by Mary Gilmore

Never allow the thoughtless to delcare
That we have no tradition here!

I span and Eve span,
A thread to bind the heart of man!

Youth troubles over eternity; age grasps at a day and is satisfied to have even the day.

Nurse no long grief,
Lest the heart flower no more;
Grief builds no barns; its plough
Rusts at the door.

Never admit the pain,
Bury it deep;
Only the weak complain.
Complaint is cheap.

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Mary Gilmore (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.