Quotes
Quotes about Pen
My heart is singing for joy this morning! A miracle has happened! The light of understanding has shone upon my little pupil's mind, and behold, all things are changed! -Anne Sullivan.
Heat and animosity, contest and conflict, may sharpen the wits, although they rarely do; they never strengthen the understanding, clear the perspicacity, guide the judgment, or improve the heart. -Walter Savage Landor.
Grief drives men into habits of serious reflection, sharpens understanding and softens the heart. -John Adams.
Spend in pure converse our eternal day; Think each in each, immediately wise; Learn all we lacked before; hear, know, and say What this tumultuous body now denies; And feel, who have laid our groping hands away; And see, no longer blinded by our eyes.
He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill. Our antagonist is our helper.
Aid the dawning, tongue and pen: Aid it, hopes of honest men!
Charity is injurious unless it helps the recipient to become independent of it.
Alas! my child, where is the Pen That can do justice to the Hen? Like Royalty, she goes her way, Laying foundations every day, Though not for Public Buildings, yet For Custard, Cake and Omelette. Of if too old for such a use They have their fling at some abuse, As when to censure Plays Unfit Upon the stage they make a Hit Or at elections seal the Fate Of an Obnoxious Candidate. No wonder, Child, we prize the Hen, Whose Egg is Mightier than the Pen.
Alas! my child, where is the Pen That can do justice to the Hen? Like Royalty, she goes her way, Laying foundations every day, Though not for Public Buildings, yet For Custard, Cake and Omelette. Of if too old for such a use They have their fling at some abuse, As when to censure Plays Unfit Upon the stage they make a Hit Or at elections seal the Fate Of an Obnoxious Candidate. No wonder, Child, we prize the Hen, Whose Egg is Mightier than the Pen.
Listen, my friend, there are two races of beings. The masses teeming and happyâcommon clay, if you likeâeating, breeding, working, counting their pennies; people who just live; ordinary people; people you can't imagine dead. And then there are the othersâthe noble ones, the heroes. The ones you can quite well imagine lying shot, pale and tragic; one minute triumphant with a guard of honor, and the next being marched away between two gendarmes.
Bardot, Byron, Hitler, Hemingway, Monroe, Sade: we do not require our heroes to be subtle, just to be big. Then we can depend on someone to make them subtle.
The fate of a nation has often depended on the food or bad digestion of a prime minister.
History is something that never happened, written by a man who wasn't there.
History's like a story in a way: it depends on who's telling it.
To give an accurate description of what never happened is the proper occupation of the historian.
History is a pack of lies about events that never happened told by people who weren't there.
It often happens that those of whom we speak least on earth are best known in heaven.
How many pens are broken, how many ink bottles consumed, to write about things that have never happened.
Most of us spend too much time on the last twenty-four hours and too little on the last six thousand years.
90% of my time is spent on 10% of the world.
The past actually happened but history is only what someone wrote down.
Very few things happen at the right time, and the rest do not happen at all. The conscientious historian will correct these defects.
Bardot, Byron, Hitler, Hemingway, Monroe, Sade: we do not require our heroes to be subtle, just to be big. Then we can depend on someone to make them subtle.
And that was the way The deuce was to pay As it always is, at the close of the day That gave us-- Hurray! Hurray! Hurray! (With some restrictions, the fault-finders say) That which, please God, we will keep for aye Our National Independence!
No outward doors of a man's house can in general be broken open to execute any civil process; though in criminal cases the public safety supersedes the private.
