Quotes
Quotes about Race
Oh that the desert were my dwelling-place,
With one fair spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race,
And hating no one, love but only her!
The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the music breathing from her face,
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,--
And oh, that eye was in itself a soul!
Yet in my lineaments they trace
Some features of my father's face.
Behold! in Liberty's unclouded blaze
We lift our heads, a race of other days.
Here the free spirit of mankind, at length,
Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place
A limit to the giant's unchained strength,
Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?
Pouter, tumbler and fantail are from the same source;
The racer and hack may be traced to one horse;
So men were developed from monkeys of course,
Which nobody can deny.
Born for success he seemed,
With grace to win, with heart to hold,
With shining gifts that took all eyes.
But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day, and the race a life.
And thou, vast ocean! on whose awful face
Time's iron feet can print no ruin-trace.
We seemed to see our flag unfurled,
Our champion waiting in his place
For the last battle of the world,
The Armageddon of the race.
The King in a carriage may ride,
And the Beggar may crawl at his side;
But in the general race,
They are traveling all the same pace.
The hills of manhood wear a noble face
When seen from far;
The mist of light from which they take their grace
Hides what they are.
I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
O great and sane and simple race of brutes
That own no lust because they have no law
What shall I do with all the days and hours
That must be counted ere I see thy face?
How shall I charm the interval that lowers
Between this time and that sweet time of grace?
Selfishness is the greatest curse of the human race.
This was the truest warrior
That ever buckled sword;
This the most gifted poet
That ever breathed a word;
And never earth's philosopher
Traced with his golden pen
On the deathless page truths half so sage
As he wrote down for men.
Grace is given of God but knowledge is bought in the market.
Here was a type of the true elder race,
And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face.
Youth, large, lusty, loving--Youth, full of grace, force, fascination!
Do you know that Old Age may come after you, with equal grace, force, fascination?
Now obey thy cherished secret wish,
Embrace thy friends--leave all in order;
To port and hawser's tie no more returning,
Depart upon thy endless cruise, old Sailor!
The greatest efforts of the race have always been traceable to the love of praise, as its greatest catastrophes to the love of pleasure.
Love is that orbit of the restless soul
Whose circle grazes the confines of space,
Bounding within the limits of its race
Utmost extremes.
Life's race well run,
Life's work well done,
Life's victory won,
Now cometh rest.
