'Twas the night before Christman, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring,--not even a mouse: The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
As many mince pies as you taste at Christmas' so many happy months will you have.
England was merry England, when Old Christmas brought his sports again. 'Twas Christmas broach'd the mightiest ale; 'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale; A Christmas gambol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year.
Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace; East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease; Sing the song of great joy that the angels began, Sing the glory to God and of good-will to man!
Oh! St. Patrick was a gentleman, Who came of decent people; He built a church in Dublin town, And on it put a steeple.
In that temple of silence and reconciliation where the enmities of twenty generations lie buried, in the Great Abbey, which has during many ages afforded a quiet resting-place to those whose minds and bodies have been shattered by the contentions of the Great Hall.
As like a church and an ale-house, God and the devell, they manie times dwell neere to ether.
I never weary of great churches. It is my favourite kind of mountain scenery. Mankind was never so happily inspired as when it made a cathedral.
Man is not the creature of circumstances, Circumstances are the creatures of men.
Man, without religion, is the creature of circumstances.
Man is the creature of circumstances.
Circumstances do not make the man, they reveal him.
It is not the situation that makes the man, but the man who makes the situation.
If all our happiness is bound up entirely in our personal circumstances it is difficult not to demand of life more than it has to give.
Tear man out of his outward circumstances; and what he then is; that only is he.
I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me; and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum Of human cities torture.
God made the country, and man made the town.
The first requisite to happiness is that a man be born in a famous city.
Every man cannot go to Corinthum. [Lat., Non cuivis homini contingit adire Corinthum.]
The city is not a concrete jungle, it is a human zoo.
Unless the Lord keep the city the watchman waketh in vain. [Lat., Nisi Dominus frustra.]
Citizenship comes first today in our crowded world ... No man can enjoy the privileges of education and thereafter with a clear conscience break his contract with society. To respect that contract is to be mature, to strengthen it is to be a good citizen, to do more than your share under it is noble.
Now the trumpet summons us againânot as a call to bear arms, though arms we needânot as a call to battle, though embattled we areâbut a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle year in and year out, "rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation"âa struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty and war itself.
Anyone can be a barbarian; it requires a terrible effort to remain a civilized man.
All the things now enjoyed by civilization have been created by some man and sold by another man before anybody really enjoyed the ;benefits of them.