Quotes
Quotes about Day
How many observe Christ's birthday! How few, his precepts! O! 'tis easier to keep holidays than commandments.
When lip service to some mysterious deity permits bestiality on Wednesday and absolution on Sunday, cash me out.
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
A Sunday school is a prison in which children do penance for the evil conscience of their parents.
to be nobody-but-myself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make me everybody else means, to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting.
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow-- You are not wrong who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream.
Cruel Remorse! where Youth and Pleasure sport, And thoughtless Folly keeps her court,-- Crouching 'midst rosy bowers thou lurk'st unseen Slumbering the festal hours away, While Youth disports in that enchanting scene; Till on some fated day Thou with a tiger-spring dost leap upon thy prey, And tear his helpless breast, o'erwhelmed with wild dismay.
He [Cato] used to say that in all his life he never repented but of three things. The first was that he had trusted a woman with a secret; the second that he had gone by sea when he might have gone by land; and the third, that had passed one day without having a will by him.
When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world. â¢John Muir Absence of occupation is not rest; A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed. â¢William Cowper No rest is worth anything except the rest that is earned. â¢Jean Paul Sundays, quiet islands on the tossing seas of life. â¢S. W. Duffield Rest is the sweet sauce of labor. â¢Plutarch I cannot believe that the inscrutable universe turns on an axis of suffering; surely the strange beauty of the world must somewhere rest on pure joy! â¢Louise A. Bogan A friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out. â¢Walter Winchell One dog barks at something, the rest bark at him. â¢Chinese Proverb How beautiful is it to do nothing, and then rest afterward. â¢Proverb The voice of the intellect is a soft one, but it does not rest till it has gained a hearing.
Who remembers when we used to rest on Sunday instead of Monday?
Youth will be served, every dog has his day, and mine has been a fine one.
I am closing my 52 years of military service. When I joined the army, even before the turn of the century, it was the fulfillment of all my boyish hopes and dreams. The world has turned over many times since I took the oath on the plain at West Point, and the hopes and dreams have long since vanished, but I still remember the refrain of one of the most barracks ballads of that day which proclaimed most proudly that old soldiers never die; they just fade away. And like the old soldier of that ballad, I now close my military career and just fade away, an old soldier who tried to do his duty as God gave him the light to see that duty. Goodbye.
The worst of work nowadays is what happens to people when they cease to work.
Love prefers twilight to daylight.
Light Winged Smoke Lightwinged Smoke, Icarian bird, Melting thy pinions in thy upward flight, Lark without song, and the messenger of dawn, Circling above the hamlets as thy nest; Or else, departing dream, and shadowy form Of midnight vision, gathering up thy skirts; By night star-veiling, and by day Darkening the light and blotting out the sun; Go thou my incense upward from this hearth, And ask the gods to pardon this clear flame. -Henry David Thoreau-.
For right is right, since God is God, And right the day must win; To doubt would be disloyalty, To falter would be sin.
Rituals are important. Nowadays it's hip not to be married. I'm not interested in being hip.
Now when the primrose makes a splendid show, And lilies face the March-winds in full blow, And humbler growths as moved with one desire Put on, to welcome spring, their best attire, Poor Robin is yet flowerless; but how gay With his red stalks upon this sunny day!
You say that love is nonsense....I tell you it is no such thing. For weeks and months it is a steady physical pain, an ache about the heart, never leaving one, by night or by day; a long strain on one's nerves like toothache or rheumatism, not intolerable at any one instant, but exhausting by its steady drain on the strength.
If thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say, I love her for her smile . . . her look . . . her way Of speaking gently . . . for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and, certes, brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day- For these things in themselves, Beloved, may be changed, or change for thee- and love so wrought, May be unwrought so.
Today I begin to understand what love must be, if it exists.... When we are parted, we each feel the lack of the other half of ourselves. We are incomplete like a book in two volumes of which the first has been lost. That is what I imagine love to be: incompleteness in absence.
When I am at Rome, I fast on a Saturday: when I am at Milan I do not. Do the same. Follow the custom of the church where you are.
Rome was not built in a day.
'Twas a yellow rose, By that south window of the little house, My cousin Romney gathered with his hand On all my birthdays, for me. save the last; And then I shook the tree too rough, too rough, For roses to stay after.
And kind as kings upon their coronation day.
