Quotes
Quotes about Tea
In tears I tossed my coin from Trevi's edge. A coin unsordid as a bond of love-- And, with the instinct of the homing dove, I gave to Rome my rendezvous and pledge. And when imperious Death Has quenched my flame of breath, Oh, let me join the faithful shades that throng that fount above.
On the king's gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They call'd him dead; And made his eldest son, one day, Slave in his father's stead.
I give this heavy weight from off my head And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, The pride of kingly sway from out my heart. With mine own tears I wash away my balm, With mine own hands I give away my crown, With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, With mine own breath release all duty's rites.
Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering teach the rest to sneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike; Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend, A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend.
Old maids sweeten their tea with scandal.
I have more understanding than all my teachers: for thy testimonies are my meditation.
Too many people are thinking of security instead of opportunity; they seem more afraid of life then of death.
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime With tears and laughter for all time.
âConvey,â the wise it call. âSteal!â foh! a fico for the phrase! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.
The most peaceable way for you if you do take a thief, is to let him show himself what he is and steal out of your company. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.
For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye? Learning is but an adjunct to ourself. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.
O father Abram! what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect The thoughts of others! -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
The villany you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1.
The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 'T is mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That in the course of justice none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
The big round tears Coursed one another down his innocent nose In piteous chase. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1.
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.
Lord, Thou hast made this world below the shadow of a dream, An', taught by time, I tak' it so--exceptin' always steam, From coupler-flange to spindle-guide I see thy Hand, O God-- Predestination in the stride o' yon connectin'-rod.
Where is home? Home is where the heart can laugh without shyness. Home is where the heart's tears can dry at their own pace.
The best of remedies is a beefsteak Against sea-sickness; try it, sir, before You sneer, and I assure you this is true, For I have found it answer--so may you.
Is Brutus sick, and is it physical To walk unbraced and suck up the humors Of the dank morning? What, is Brutus sick, And will he steal out of his wholesome bed To dare the vile contagion of the night, And tempt the rheumy and unpurged air, To add unto his sickness?
Silence is the great teacher, and to learn its lessons you must pay attention to it. There is no substitute for the creative inspiration, knowledge, and stability that come from knowing how to contact your core of inner silence. The great Sufi poet Rumi wrote, "Only let the moving waters calm down, and the sun and moon will be reflected on the surface of your being.
Or did the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as, warbled to the string, Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.
Every night he comes With musics of all sorts, and songs composed To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us To chide him from our eaves, for he persists As if his life lay on't.
