Quotes
Quotes about Men
Revolution: in politics, an abrupt change in the form of misgovernment.
Revolutionary movements attract those who are not good enough for established institutions as well as those who are too good for them.
Any people anywhere being inclined and having the power have the right to rise up and shake off the existing government, and force a new one that suits them better.
Make revolution a parent of settlement, and not a nursery of future revolutions.
It is the amends of a short and troublesome life, that doing good and suffering ill entitles man to a longer and better.
Rhetoric is nothing, but reason well dressed and argument put in order.
Histories make men wise; poets witty; the mathematics subtle; natural philosophy deep; moral grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend.
The broad masses of a population are more amenable to the appeal of rhetoric than to any other force.
I distrust those sentiments that are too far removed from nature, and whose sublimity is blended with ridicule; which two are as near one another as extreme wisdom and folly.
Ridicule is the first and last argument of fools.
Scoff not at the natural defects of any which are not in their power to amend. It is cruel to beat a cripple with his own crutches!
Might was the measure of right. [Lat., Mensuraque juris Vis erat.]
All men are born free and equal, and have certain natural, essential, and unalienable rights.
The extension of women's rights is the basic principle of all social progress.
The equal right of all men to the use of land is as clear as their equal right to breathe the air--it is a right proclaimed by the fact of their existence. For we cannot suppose that some men have a right to be in this world, and others no right.
We hold these truths to be self-evident,--that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
I am glad to see that men are getting their rights, but I want women to get theirs, and while the water is stirring I will step into the pool.
Many a person seems to think it isn't enough for the government to guarantee him the pursuit of happiness. He insists it also run interference for him.
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.
The poor suffer twice at the rioter's hands. First, his destructive fury scars their neighborhood; second, the atmosphere of accommodation and consent is changed to one of hostility and resentment.
Yet I will look upon thy face again, My own romantic Bronx, and it will be A face more pleasant than the face of men. Thy waves are old companions, I shall see A well remembered form in each old tree And hear a voice long loved in thy wild minstrelsy.
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!
Call for the robin-red-breast, and the wren, Since o'er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men.
Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my easement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. . . . . Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my requiem sing, Nor fail to be the harbinger Of everlasting spring.
