Quotes
Quotes about Rest
How beauteous are rouleaus! how charming chests Containing ingots, bags of dollars, coins (Not of old victors, all whose heads and crests Weigh not the thin ore where their visage shines, But) of find unclipt gold, where dully rests Some likeness, which the glittering cirque confines, Of modern, reigning, sterling, stupid stamp;-- Yes! ready money is Aladdin's lamp.
The chief value of money lies in the fact that one lives in a world in which it is overestimated.
Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November; All the rest have thirty-one Excepting February alone: Which hath but twenty-eight, in fine, Till lap year gives it twenty-nine.
Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November; February eight-and-twenty all alone, And all the rest have thirty-one: Unless that leap-year doth combine, And give to February twenty-nine.
Thirty days hath November, April, June, and September, February hath xxviii alone, And all the rest have xxxi.
You shall not pile, with servile toil, Your monuments upon my breast, Nor yet within the common soil Lay down the wreck of power to rest, Where man can boast that he has trod On him that was "the scourge of God."
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go Over those hoary crests, divinely led! Art thou that huntress of the silver bow Fabled of old? Or rather dost thou tread Those cloudy summits thence to gaze below, Like the wild chamois from her Alpine snow, Where hunters never climbed--secure from dread?
Mercy to living beings, self restraint, truth, honesty, chastity and contentment, right faith and knowledge, and austerity are but the entourage of morality.
O, the mulberry-tree is of trees the queen! Bare long after the rest are green; But as the time steals onwards, while none perceives Slowly she clothes herself with leaves-- Hides her fruit under them, hard to find. . . . . But by and by, when the flowers grow few And the fruits are dwindling and small to view-- Out she comes in her matron grace With the purple myriads of her race; Full of plenty from root to crown, Showering plenty her feet adown. While far over head hang gorgeously Large luscious berries of sanguine dye, For the best grows highest, always highest, Upon the mulberry-tree.
The rustle of the leaves in summer's hush When wandering breezes touch them, and the sigh That filters through the forest, or the gush That swells and sinks amid the branches high,-- 'Tis all the music of the wind, and we Let fancy float on the aeolian breath.
After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.
After silence that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.
After seven years of marriage, I'm sure of two thingsâ first, never wallpaper together, and second, you'll need two bathrooms . . . both for her. The rest is a mystery, but a mystery I love to be involved in.
The dodgerest of all the dodgers.
If the fairest features of the landscape are to be named after men, let them be the noblest and worthiest men alone.
However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It is not so bad as you are. It looks poorest when you are the richest.
Guard against the prestige of great names; see that your judgments are your own; and do not shrink from disagreement; no trusting without testing.
Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid Nature.
The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness.
Man has lost the capacity to foresee and to forestall. He will end by destroying the earth.
We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass - grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.
As you sit on the hillside, or lie prone under the trees of the forest, or sprawl wet-legged by a mountain stream, the great door, that does not look like a door, opens.
When chill November's surly blast make fields and forest bare.
Forests, lakes, and rivers, clouds and winds, stars and flowers, stupendous glaciers and crystal snowflakes - every form of animate or inanimate existence, leaves its impress upon the soul of man.
What makes a river so restful to people is that it doesn't have any doubt - it is sure to get where it is going, and it doesn't want to go anywhere else.
