Quotes
Quotes about Gold
There was a king of Thule, Was faithful till the grave, To whom his mistress dying, A golden goblet gave. [Ger., Es war ein Konig in Tule Gar treu bis an das Grab, Dem sterbend seine Buhle Einen gold'nen Becher gab.]
In good King Charles's golden days When royalty no harm meant, A zealous high-churchman was I, And so I got preferment.
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.
For anything worth having one must pay the price; and the price is always work, patience, love, self-sacrifice--no paper currency, no promises to pay, but the gold of real service.
The birds chaunt melody on every bush, The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun, The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, And make a checkered shadow on the ground; Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds, Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns, As if a double hunt were heard at once, Let us sit down and mark their yellowing noise; And after conflict such as was supposed The wand'ring prince and Dido once enjoyed, When with a happy storm they were surprised, And curtained with a counsel-keeping cave, We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber, Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds Be unto us as is a nurse's song Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.
She is mine own, And I as rich in having such a jewel As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, The water nectar, and the rocks pure gold. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.
All that glisters is not gold. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 7.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 3.
The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne, Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were lovesick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Some maladies are rich and precious and only to be acquired by the right of inheritance or purchased with gold. - Nathaniel Hawthorne,
Sometimes silence is not golden--just yellow.
I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame the earth seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire--why, it appeareth nothing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors.
Still believe that ever round you Spirits float who watch and wait; Nor forget the twain who found you Sleeping nigh the Golden Gate.
Sleep on, Baby, on the floor, Tired of all the playing, Sleep with smile the sweeter for That you dropped away in! On your curls' full roundness stand Golden lights serenely-- One cheek, pushed out by the hand, Folds the dimple inly.
[Sleep is] the golden chain that ties health and our bodies together.
The smile of her I love is like the dawn Whose touch makes Menmon sing: O see where wide the golden sunlight flows-- The barren desert blossoms as the rose!
Lawn as white as driven snow, Cyprus black as e'er was crow, Gloves as sweet as damask roses, Masks for faces and for noses, Bugle bracelet, necklace amber, Perfume for a lady's chamber, Golden quoifs and stomachers For my lads to give their dears, Pins and poking-sticks of steel, What maids lack from head to heel.
The biggest mischief in the past century has been perpetrated by Rousseau with his doctrine of the goodness of human nature. The mob and the intellectuals derived from it the vision of a Golden Age which would arrive without fail once the noble human race could act according to its whims.
Aerial spirits, by great Jove design'd To be on earth the guardians of mankind: Invisible to mortal eyes they go, And mark our actions, good or bad, below: The immortal spies with watchful care preside, And thrice ten thousand round their charges glide: They can reward with glory or with gold, A power they by Divine permission hold.
If you are worshipping false godsâsuch as football, baseball, gold, tennis, or money or technology or automobiles or houses or gold or silverâand you can tell what a man worships by what he does on Sundayârepent and start worshipping the true and living God, the maker of heaven and earth and all things that in them are.
And lives to clutch the golden keys, To mould a mighty state's decrees, And shape the whisper of the throne.
The battles that count aren't the ones for gold medals. The struggles within yourselfâthe invisible, inevitable battles inside all of usâthat's where it's at.
O thou who passest through our valleys in Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat That flames from their large nostrils! Thou, O Summer, Oft pitchest here thy golden tent, and oft Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld With joy thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
