Quotes About Poverty

Ratero, si un pobre se mete en casa de un rico, ya se sabe, es un ladrón ¿no? —Un ladrón —asintía el Ratero. —Pero si un rico se mete en casa de un pobre, ¿qué es? —¿Qué es? —repetía estúpidamente el tío Ratero. —¡Una rata!

Orang-orang yang lebih kaya akan menjadi lebih kaya, dan orang-orang miskin akan dikatakan mereka lebih kaya tapi akan sangat yakin bahwa mereka tidak kaya.

I don't want to romanticize poverty. I just mean that there was, for me, a kind of grace and joy in it that I can't quite describe. I'd have loved to give us all enough to live better, but... this was pretty good regardless.

I walk on, wondering how the people who have the least to give are often the ones who give the most.

As time passed, it grew easier and easier to let go of what I had. The reason was simple: I had a lot. Like most people who go overseas to do development work, I did so expecting to find out what it's like to be poor. But awakening to my surroundings after a few months, I discovered that that's not what happens. Instead you learn what it's like to be rich, to be fabulously, incomprehensibly bloated with wealth. No one in Kalambayi could afford to share more than I.

Hem tramvaylar?n geçtiÄŸi raylar? temizleyeceksin bütün gün, hem de Ispanya'daki fakirlerin geleceÄŸi üzerine kafa patlatacaks?n ha?

I've always had the sense that my life is run by other people. Except for a few years after Martin died. Those were the toughest years, I was alone with my children, I had to cope by myself. Complete poverty. You won't believe this, but nowadays when I look back, those are my happiest years.

I had been poor myself, and knew what awaited him in the world. He would find that they who fawned on him most would be first to turn their backs on him now. He would be rudely disillusioned regarding the fables of love and friendship, and would become cynical, bitter, and sceptical of there being any disinterested good in human nature.

Poverty is not a disgrace, but it's terribly inconvenient

Love is the common currency of the poor.

He travels safe and not unpleasantly who is guarded by poverty and guided by love.

Poor? What does that matter? When poverty creeps in at the door, love flies in through the window.

The greatest poverty one can have is to be poor in one's heart and for falling in love, he is truly happy. He discovers purpose.

I am no metaphysician, no philosopher, nay, no saint. But I am poor and I love the poor. I see what they call the poor of this country and how many there are who feel for them!

My friends were poor, but honest, so's my love.

Poverty makes it very difficult in an already competitive world for kids to get on a straight track where they can actually love learning.

What Is Love? I have met in the streets a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, the water passed through his shoes and the stars through his soul

If you want to love God, love the less-fortunate one. If you want to see God, look through the eyes of a hungry child.

The poor of the earth know how much we really love Jesus.

A bar of gold means much more to a pauper than to a king

At the far end of the room, upon a moldering dais, a shabby man sat upon a battered thrown. A dingy rag bound his eyes, a tarnished crown rested upon his grey hair, and a grimy green robe edged in dirty white fur enshrouded his body. He looked like some homeless guy playing the part of a wise man in a soup kitchen Christmas pageant.

He kept imagining women like his mother creeping across the border with the hope of being able to make enough to feed themselves and their families, and being murdered by some vigilante who felt he had the right to take the law into his own hands. It was so easy to feel self-righteous and superior when you had a comfortable home, a safe place to live and a full stomach.

Back at our table Reeves is telling Hamlin about how he taunts the homeless in the streets, about how he hands a dollar to them as he approaches and then yanks it away and pockets it right when he passes the bums.

On my way into the Chinese cleaners I brush past a crying bum, an old man, forty or fifty, fat and grizzled, and just as I'm opening the door I notice, to top it off, that he's also blind and I step on his foot, which is actually a stump, causing him to drop his cup, scattering change all over the sidewalk. Did I do this on purpose? What do you think? Or did I do this accidentally?