Quotes
Quotes about End
Mind is the great lever of all things; human thought is the process by which human ends are ultimately answered.
It is my living sentiment, and by the blessing of God it shall be my dying sentiment,--Independence now and Independence forever.
Labour in this country is independent and proud. It has not to ask the patronage of capital, but capital solicits the aid of labor.
God grants liberty only to those who love it, and are always ready to guard and defend it.
Brightest and best of the sons of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid.
A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast,
And fills the white and rustling sail,
And bends the gallant mast.
And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While like the eagle free
Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on the lee.
Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires,
And decorate the verse herself inspires:
This fact, in virtue's name, let Crabbe attest,--
Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best.
By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see
For one who hath no friend, no brother there.
He who ascends to mountain-tops shall find
The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow;
He who surpasses or subdues mankind
Must look down on the hate of those below.
On the ear
Drops the light drip of the suspended oar.
The hell of waters! where they howl and hiss,
And boil in endless torture.
Man!
Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
Think'st thou existence doth depend on time?
It doth; but actions are our epochs.
For most men (till by losing rendered sager)
Will back their own opinions by a wager.
What is the end of fame? 'T is but to fill
A certain portion of uncertain paper.
Earth! render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead!
Of the three hundred grant but three
To make a new Thermopylæ.
Heroic, stoic Cato, the sententious,
Who lent his lady to his friend Hortensius.
All human history attests
That happiness for man,--the hungry sinner!--
Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner.
Friendship is Love without his wings.
Green be the turf above thee,
Friend of my better days!
None knew thee but to love thee,
Nor named thee but to praise.
Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends,
An incarnation of fat dividends.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well,
In learned doctors' spite;
Thy clouds all other clouds dispel,
And lap me in delight.
The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame
Over his living head like heaven is bent,
An early but enduring monument,
Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song
In sorrow.
Poets are the hierophants of an unapprehended inspiration; the mirrors of the gigantic shadows which futurity casts upon the present.
