Quotes
Quotes about Sky
Yet shall you have to rectify your palate, An olive, capers, or some better salad Ushering the mutton; with a short-legged hen, If we can get her, full of eggs, and then, Limons, and wine for sauce: to these a coney Is not to be despaired of for our money; And though fowl now be scarce, yet there are clerks, The sky not falling, think we may have larks.
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whispered word; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure. Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.
But when eve's silent footfall steals Along the eastern sky, And one by one to earth reveals Those purer fires on high.
Here's a sigh to those who love me, And a smile to those who hate; And whatever sky's above me, Here's a heart for every fate.
The clouds dispell'd, the sky resum'd her light, And Nature stood recover'd of her fright. But fear, the last of ills, remain'd behind, And horrow heavy sat on every mind.
Feeling without judgement is a washy draught indeed; but judgement untempered by feeling is too bitter and husky a morsel for human deglutition.
Now, motionless and dark, eluded search Self-shrouded: and anon, starring the sky, Rose like a shower of fire.
Hats off! Along the street there comes A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, A flash of color beneath the sky: Hats off! The flag is passing by.
Ay, here her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky.
Your flag and my flag, And how it flies today In your land and my land And half a world away! Rose-red and blood-red The stripes forever gleam; Snow-white and soul-white-- The good forefathers' dream; Sky-blue and true-blue, with stars to gleam aright-- The gloried guidon of the day, a shelter through the night.
You can muffle the drum, and you can loosen the strings of the lyre, but who shall command the skylark not to sing?
When they him spy, As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort, Rising and cawing at the gun's report, Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky; So at his sight away his fellows fly, And at our stamp here o'er and o'er one falls; He murder cries and help from Athens calls.
A work of skill, surpassing sense, A labor of Omnipotence; Though frail as dust it meet thine eye, He form'd this gnat who built the sky.
Creator Venus, genial power of love, The bliss of men below, and gods above! Beneath the sliding sun thou runn'st thy race, Dost fairest shine, and best become thy place; For thee the winds their eastern blasts forbear, Thy mouth reveals the spring, and opens all the year; Thee, goddess, thee, the storms of winter fly, Earth smiles with flowers renewing, laughs the sky.
If hush'd the loud whirlwind that ruffled the deep, The sky if no longer dark tempests deform; When our perils are past shall our gratitude sleep? No! Here's to the pilot that weather'd the storm!
I gazed upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the ground, 'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June When brooks send up a cheerful tune, And groves a joyous sound, The sexton's hand, my grave to make, The rich, green mountain-turf should break.
The Path that leadeth on is lighted by one fire - the light of daring burning in the heart. The more one dares, the more he shall obtain. -Helena Petrova Blavatsky.
It is not the brains that matter most, but that which guides them - the character, the heart, generous qualities, progressive ideas. -Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
Thy spirit, Independence, let me share! Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye, Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.
Don't forget I know who you are. We were cut from the same surly star. Like two jewels in the sky sharing fire!
When thou attended gloriously from heaven, Shalt in the sky appear, and from thee send Thy summoning archangels to proclaim Thy dread tribunal.
I gazed upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the ground, 'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June When brooks send up a cheerful tune, And groves a joyous sound, The sexton's hand, my grave to make, The rich, green mountain-turf should break.
The merry lark he soars on high, No worldly thought o'ertakes him. He sings aloud to the clear blue sky, And the daylight that awakes him.
I said to the sky-poised Lark: "Hark--hark! Thy note is more loud and free Because there lies safe for thee A little nest on the ground."
