Quotes
Quotes - Blair
The Grave, dread thing!
Men shiver when thou 'rt named: Nature, appall'd,
Shakes off her wonted firmness.
The schoolboy, with his satchel in his hand,
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.
Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul!
Sweetener of life! and solder of society!
Of joys departed,
Not to return, how painful the remembrance!
The cup goes round:
And who so artful as to put it by!
'T is long since Death had the majority.
The good he scorn'd
Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost,
Not to return; or if it did, in visits
Like those of angels, short and far between.
Who gather round, and wonder at the tale Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly, That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand O'er some new-open'd grave; and, (strange to tell!) Evanishes at crowing of the cock.
Do more than is required. What is the distance between someone who achieves their goals consistently and those who spend their lives and careers merely following? The extra mile.
The schoolboy, with his satchel in his hand, Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.
Smiled like yon knot of cowslips on a cliff.
Ask me my three priorities for Government, and I tell you: education, education and education.
The best-concerted schemes men lay for fame, Die fast away: only themselves die faster. The far-fam'd sculptor, and the laurell'd bard, Those bold insurancers of deathless fame, Supply their little feeble aids in vain.
Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul, Sweet'ner of life, and solder of society.
The good he scorned Stalked off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost, Not to return; or if it did, in visits Like those of angels, short and far between.
The grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled, Shakes off her wonted firmness.
See yonder maker of the dead man's bed, The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle, Of hard, unmeaning face, down which ne'er stole A gentle tear.
We, therefore, here in Britain stand shoulder to shoulder with our American friends in this hour of tragedy, and we, like them, will not rest until this evil is driven from our world.
The tap'ring pyramid, the Egyptian's pride, And wonder of the world, whose spiky top Has wounded the thick cloud.
Worry not about the possible troubles of the future; for if they come, you are but anticipating and adding to their weight; and if they do not come, your worry is useless; and in either case it is weak and in vain, and a distrust of God's providence.
When it draws near to witching time of night.
My parents put skates on me at age 2, the way it should be if you're serious, and I've always liked it.
It frequently happens that where the second line is sublime, the third, in which he meant to rise still higher, is perfectly bombast.
The common damn'd shun their society.
But if there be an hereafter, And that there is, conscience, uninfluenc'd And suffer'd to speak out, tells every man, Then must it be an awful thing to die; More horrid yet to die by one's own hand.
Our time is fixed, and all our days are number'd; How long, how short, we know not:--this we know, Duty requires we calmly wait the summons, Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission.
