Every age is fed on illusions, lest men should renounce life early and the human race come to an end.
All wars are civil wars, because all men are brothers... Each one owes infinitely more to the human race than to the particular country in which he was born.
To own a bit of ground, to scratch it with a hoe, to plant seeds and watch their renewal of lifeâthis is the commonest delight of the race, the most satisfactory thing a man can do.
As freely as the firmament embraces the world,
Traveling is a fool's paradise... I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea and at last wake up in Naples, and there besides me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from.
Of all nature's gifts to the human race, what is sweeter to a man than his children?
We allow our ignorance to prevail upon us and make us think we can survive alone, alone in patches, alone in groups, alone in races, even alone in genders.
The end of the human race will be that it will eventually die of civilization.
We require from buildings, as from men, two kinds of goodness: first, the doing their practical duty well: then that they be graceful and pleasing in doing it; which last is itself another form of duty.
Compassion, in which all ethics must take root, can only attain its full breadth and depth if it embraces all living creatures and does not limit itself to mankind.
Every time I see an adult on a bicycle, I no longer despair for the future of the human race.
If we were to wake up some morning and find that everyone was the same race, creed and color, we would find some other cause for prejudice by noon.
The extent of your consciousness is limited only by your ability to love and to embrace with your love the space around you, and all it contains
Life has been compared to a race, but the allusion improves by observing, that the most swift are usually the least manageable and the most likely to stray from the course. Great abilities have always been less serviceable to the possessors than moderate ones.
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?
Ah, when to the heart of man was it ever less than a treason to go with the drift of things to yield with a grace to reason and bow and accept at the end of a love or a season.
Like hungry guests, a sitting audience looks; Plays are like suppers; poets are the cooks. The founder's you: the table is the place: The carvers we: the prologue is the grace. Each act, a course, each scene, a different dish, Though we're in Lent, I doubt you're still for flesh. Satire's the sauce, high-season'd, sharp and rough. Kind masks and beaux, I hope you're pepperproof? Wit is the wine; but 'tis so scarce the true Poets, like vintners, balderdash and brew. Your surly scenes, where rant and bloodshed join. Are butcher's meat, a battle's sirloin: Your scenes of love, so flowing, soft and chaste, Are water-gruel without salt or taste.
Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part, and I am out, Even to a full disgrace.
"Not to admire, is all the art I know (Plain truth, dear Murray, needs few flowers of speech) To make men happy, or to keep them so." (So take it in the very words of Creech) Thus Horace wrote we all know long ago; And thus Pope quotes the precept to re-teach From his translation; but had none admired, Would Pope have sung, or Horace been inspired?
Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, For wise men say it is the wisest course.
The extent of your consciousness is limited only by your ability to love and to embrace with your love the space around you, and all it contains.
The much vaunted male logic isn't logical, because they display prejudicesâagainst half the human raceâthat are considered prejudices according to any dictionary definition.
To sentence a man of true genius, to the drudgery of a school is to put a racehorse on a treadmill.
It may be that the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strongâbut that is the way to bet.
For an actress to be a success, she must have the face of Venus, the brains of a Minerva, the grace of Terpsichore, the memory of a Macaulay, the figure of Juno, and the hide of a rhinoceros.