Quotes
Quotes about Word
The American people would not want to know of any misquotes that Dan Quayle may or may not make. â¢Vice President Dan Quayle Quoting: the act of repeating erroneously the words of another. â¢Ambrose Bierce You could compile the worst book in the world entirely out of selected passages from the best writes in the world.
Quoting: the act of repeating erroneously the words of another.
There are intangible realities which float near us, formless and without words; realities which no one has thought out, and which are excluded for lack of interpreters.
The worst of rebels never arm To do their king or country harm, But draw their swords to do them good, As doctors cure by letting blood.
Of all the words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these... it might have been.
For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: "It might have been!".
The intellectual is constantly betrayed by his vanity. Godlike he blandly assumes that he can express everything in words; whereas the things one loves, lives, and dies for are not, in the last analysis completely expressible in words.
So far as I can remember, there is not one word in the Gospels in praise of intelligence.
The fewer words the better prayer.
When we debunk a fanatical faith or prejudice, we do not strike at the root of fanaticism. We merely prevent its leaking out at a certain point, with the likely result that it will leak out at some other point. Thus by denigrating prevailing beliefs and loyalties, the militant man of words unwittingly creates in the disillusioned masses a hunger for faith. For the majority of people cannot endure the barrenness and futility of their lives unless they have some ardent dedication, or some passionate pursuit in which they can lose themselves. Thus, in spite of himself, the scoffing man of words becomes the precursor of a new faith.
To speak of God, to think of God, is in every respect to show what one is made of. I have always wagered against God and I regard the little that I have won in this world as simply the outcome of this bet. However paltry may have been the stake (my life) I am conscious of having won to the full. Everything that is doddering, squint-eyed, vile, polluted and grotesque is summoned up for me in that one word: God!
And reputation bleeds in ev'ry word.
In various talk th' instructive hours they past, Who gave the ball, or paid the visit last; One speaks the glory of the British queen, And one describes a charming Indian screen; A third interprets motions, looks, and eyes; At every word a reputation dies.
Kindly words do not enter so deeply into men as a reputation for kindness.
Thou marvell'st at my words, but hold thee still; Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.
Revenge is an inhuman word. [Lat., Inhumanum verbum est ultio.]
Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters.
On fair Britania's isle, bright bird, A legend strange is told of thee,-- 'Tis said thy blithesome song was hushed While Christ toiled up Mount Calvary, Bowed 'neath the sins of all mankind; And humbled to the very dust By the vile cross, while viler men Mocked with a crown of thorns the Just. Pierced by our sorrows, and weighed down By our transgressions,--faint and weak, Crushed by an angry Judge's frown, And agonies no word can speak,-- 'Twas then, dear bird, the legend says That thou, from out His crown, didst tear The thorns, to lighten the distress And ease the pain that he must bear, While pendant from thy tiny beak The gory points thy bosom pressed, And crimsoned with thy Saviour's blood The sober brownness of thy breast! Since which proud hour for thee and thine. As an especial sign of grace God pours like sacramental wine Red signs of favor o'er thy race!
Here lies our mutton-looking king, Whose word no man relied on, Who never said a foolish thing No ever did a wise one.
Here lies our sovereign lord, the king, Whose word no man relives on, Who never said a foolish thing, And never did a wise one.
I wear my Pen as others do their Sword. To each affronting sot I meet, the word Is Satisfaction: straight to thrusts I go, And pointed satire runs him through and through.
Now these be the last words of David. David the son of Jesse said, and the man who was raised up on high, the anointed of the God of Jacob, and the sweet psalmist of Israel, said, The Spirit of the Lord spake by me, and his word was in my tongue.
Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.
The word unto the prophet spoken Was writ on tablets yet unbroken: The word by seers or sibyls told, In groves of oak or fanes of gold, Still floats upon the morning wind, Still whispers to the willing mind.
But Thy good word informs my soul How I may climb to heaven.
