Quotes
Quotes about Land
If Cleveland Indians' Wahoo is racist are not also Boston Celtics? naming a team for only part of the city?
Honor is like an island, rugged and without shores; we can never re-enter it once we are on the outside. [Fr., L'honneur est comme une ile escarpee et sans bords; On n'y peut plus rentrer des qu'on en est dehors.]
Honor is like an island, rugged and without shores; once we have left it, we can never return.
Then I cast loose my buff coat, each halter let fall, Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all, Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer; Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise bad or good, 'Til at length into Aix Roland galloped and stood.
Go anywhere in England where there are natural, wholesome, contented, and really nice English people; and what do you always find? That the stables are the real centre of the household.
One thing kids like is to be tricked. For instance, I was going to take my little nephew to Disneyland, but instead I drove him to an old burned-out warehouse. 'Oh, no,' I said, 'Disneyland burned down.' He cried and cried, but I think that deep down he thought it was a pretty good joke. I started to drive over to the real Disneyland, but it was getting pretty late.
With this there grows In my most ill-compos'd affection such A stanchless avarice that, were I King, I should cut off the nobles for their lands, Desire his jewels, and this other's house, And my more-having would be as a sauce To make me hunger more, that I should forge Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal, Destroying them for wealth.
Valor, gradually overpowered by the delicious poison of sloth, grows torpid. [Lat., Blandoque veneno Desidiae virtus paullatim evicta senescit.]
They are ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they can see nothing but sea.
Posterity weaves no garlands for imitators.
It takes your enemy and your friend, working together to hurt you to the heart; the one to slander you and the other to get the news to you.
Understand that most problems are a good sign. Problems indicate that progress is being made, wheels are turning, you are moving toward your goals. Beware when you have no problems. Then you've really got a problem . . . Problems are like landmarks of progress.
You are the land. The land is you.
When we put things off until some future-probably mythical-Laterland, we drag the past into the future. The burden of yesterday's incompletions is a heavy load to carry. Don't carry it.
Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us. There lies the Land of Song; there lies the poet's native land.
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle, 'Twas St. Patrick himself sure that set it; And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile, And with dew from his eye often wet it. It thrives through the bog, through the brake, and the mireland; And he called it the dear little shamrock of Ireland-- The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock, The sweet little, green little, shamrock of Ireland!
When Erin first rose from the dark-swelling flood, God blessed the green island, he saw it was good. The Emerald of Europe, it sparkled and shone In the ring of this world, the most precious stone.
Th' an'am an Dhia, but there it is-- The dawn on the hills of Ireland. God's angels lifting the night's black veil From the fair sweet face of my sireland! O Ireland, isn't it grand, you look Like a bride in her rich adornin', And with all the pent up love of my heart I bid you the top of the morning.
Why should Ireland be treated as a geographical fragment of England . . . Ireland is not a geographical fragment, but a nation.
Eternal is the fact that the human creature born in Ireland and brought up in its air is Irish. I have lived for twenty years in Ireland and for seventy-two in England; but the twenty came first and in Britain I am still a foreigner and shall die one.
O, it's a snug little island! A right little, tight little island!
Ay, many flowering islands lie In the waters of wide Agony.
Island of bliss! amid the subject Seas, That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up, At once the wonder, terror, and delight Of distant nations; whose remotest shore Can soon be shaken by thy naval arm; Not to be shook thyself, but all assaults Baffling, like thy hoar cliffs the loud sea-wave.
That's a good joke but we do it much better in England.
Hear, Land o' Cakes, and brither Scots, Frae Maidenkirk to Johnie Groat's;- If there's a hole in a' your coats, I rede you tent it: A chield's amang you takin notes, And, faith, he'll prent it.
