They smile when they want to scream.
They sing when they want to cry.
They cry when they are happy and laugh when they are nervous
They fight for what they believe in.
They stand up for injustice.
They don't take "no" for an answer when they believe there is a better solution.
They go without new shoes so their children can have them.
They go to the doctor with a frightened friend.
They love unconditionally.
They cry when their children excel and cheer when their friends get awards.
They are happy when they hear about a birth or a new marriage.
Their hearts break when a friend dies.
They have sorrow at the loss of a family member,
Yet they are strong when they think there is no strength left.
They know that a hug and a kiss can heal a broken heart.
Women come in all sizes, in all colors and shapes.
They'll drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you to show how much they care about you.
The heart of a woman is what makes the world spin!
Women do more than just give birth.
They bring joy and hope.
They give compassion and ideals.
They give moral support to their family and friends.
Women have a lot to say and a lot to give.
This has been sent to you from someone who respects you as a woman
Pass it along to your woman friends to remind them how amazing they are............
IT'S BEAUTIFUL WOMEN MONTH! IT’'S GOOD TO BE THE WOMAN.
We got off the Titanic first.
We can scare male bosses with mysterious gynecological disorder excuses.
Taxis stop for us.
We don't look like a frog in a blender when dancing.
No fashion faux pas we make could ever rival the Speedo.
We don't have to pass gas to amuse ourselves.
If we forget to shave, no one has to know.
We can congratulate our teammate without ever touching her rear.
We never have to reach down every so often to make sure our privates are still there.
We have the ability to dress ourselves.
We can talk to people of the opposite sex without having to picture them naked.
If we marry someone 20 years younger, we're aware that we look like an idiot.
There are times when chocolate really can solve all your problems.
We'll never regret piercing our ears.
We can fully assess a person just by looking at their shoes.
We can make comments about how silly men are in their presence, because they aren't listening anyway.
This piece is most commonly known as “This Is to the Woman,” and it is widely attributed to Tiffany Dufu.
Important context
About the piece
“This Is to the Woman” is a prose poem/manifesto celebrating the emotional labor, resilience, contradictions, humor, and unseen strength of women. Its power comes from accumulation—line after line affirming complexity rather than perfection.
The forest and I know each other very well. It has learned the sound of my footsteps and when to go quiet for me. I have learned how its light changes before rain, how the air thickens when it wants to speak. We recognize each other without names.
I have given it my secrets in pieces—breath, tears, the steady ache of waiting—and it has kept them without asking for more. In return, it has shown me how to stand still without disappearing, how to lose what hurts and still remain rooted. When I am heavy with thought, it carries the weight in its shadows. When I am hollow, it fills me with birdsong and the slow patience of trees.
The forest does not rush me. It knows that some truths take seasons to say. When I leave, it does not follow, but it remembers. And when I return, it opens itself again, as if I have never been gone.
Simona A. Brinson
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Nu sculon herigean
Now we must praise
heofonrices weard
heaven-kingdom’s Guardian,
meotodes meahte
the Measurer’s might
and his modgeþanc
and his mind-plans,
weorc wuldor-fæder
the work of the Glory-Father,
swa he wundra gehwæs
when he of wonders of every one,
ece drihten
eternal Lord,
or onstealde
the beginning established.
He ærest sceop
He first created
ielda bearnum
for men’s sons
heofon to hrofe
heaven as a roof,
halig scyppend
holy Creator;
ða middangeard
then middle-earth
moncynnes Weard
mankind’s Guardian,
ece drihten
eternal Lord,
æfter teode
afterwards made—
firum foldan
for men earth,
frea ælmihtig
Master almighty.
Cædmon’s Hymn is considered the earliest surviving poem written in Old English and serves as a foundational text in English literary history. The poem is a hymn of praise that honors God as the eternal Creator, emphasizing divine power, wisdom, and intentional design in the creation of heaven, earth, and humankind. Through a series of reverential titles and parallel phrases, the speaker calls on listeners to recognize God’s authority and the ordered beauty of the created world (Ferguson et al., 2018, p. 1).
The poem reflects the oral traditions of early Germanic verse, employing strong alliteration, rhythmic half-lines, and formulaic expressions to reinforce its devotional purpose. Although Christian in theme, Cædmon’s Hymn retains the stylistic features of pre-Christian Anglo-Saxon poetry, illustrating how early English poets adapted traditional forms to express new religious ideas. Preserved through later manuscript copies, the hymn represents both a literary and cultural transition from oral performance to written record (Ferguson et al., 2018, p. 1).
Reference: Ferguson, M., Salter, M. J., & Stallworthy, J. (Eds.). (2018). The Norton anthology of poetry (6th ed., p. 1). W. W. Norton & Company.
Cædmon’s Hymn sounds familiar because its steady rhythm and alliteration echo patterns still used in English poetry, making it feel musical and intentional to the ear. At the same time, it sounds foreign due to its Old English pronunciation and unfamiliar phonetics, which create a distance that reminds listeners they are hearing an earlier stage of the language.
Have a listen:
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God, can you hear me?
Are you counting my tears,
do you know my heart—
the weight it carries in silence?
Can you feel my fears
when sorrow settles heavy,
when I am weary, my soul
tattered and torn?
Do you hear my cry
when words abandon me,
when the depths of my distress
have no name?
I reach for you
on unbended knees,
offering what I cannot say—
my unspoken words.
God,
in this quiet,
can you hear me?
Simona A. Brinson
Youth is not a time of life—it is a state of mind.
It is not a matter of red cheeks, red lips and supple knees.
It is a temper of the will; a quality of the imagination; a vigor of the emotions;
it is a freshness of the deep springs of life.
Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity,
of the appetite for adventure over a life of ease.
This often exists in a man of fifty, more than in a boy of twenty.
Nobody grows old by merely living a number of years;
people grow old by deserting their ideals.
Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.
Worry, doubt, self-distrust, fear and despair—
these are the long, long years that bow the head
and turn the growing spirit back to dust.
Whether seventy or sixteen, there is in every being’s heart a love of wonder;
the sweet amazement at the stars and starlike things and thoughts;
the undaunted challenge of events,
the unfailing childlike appetite for what comes next,
and the joy in the game of life.
You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt;
as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear,
as young as your hope, as old as your despair.
In the central place of your heart there is a wireless station.
So long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, grandeur, courage,
and power from the earth, from men and from the Infinite—so long are you young.
When the wires are all down and the central places of your heart are covered with the
snows of pessimism and the ice of cynicism,
then are you grown old, indeed!
This piece is most commonly attributed to Samuel Ullman.
It comes from his prose poem Youth, written in the early 20th century. Although Ullman was not widely known during his lifetime, this text gained lasting recognition later, particularly after it was popularized by Douglas MacArthur, who admired it deeply and reportedly kept a copy in his office.
So while the passage is often mistaken for a speech, a motivational essay, or even a biblical or philosophical text, it is in fact a prose poem by Samuel Ullman, centered on youth as a state of mind rather than a measure of age.
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