Quotes
Quotes about Rest
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.
It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men's hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.
Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.
When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.
Necessity--thou best of peacemakers, As well as surest prompter of invention.
Argument is conclusive... but... it does not remove doubt, so that the mind may rest in the sure knowledge of the truth, unless it finds it by the method of experiment. For if any man who never saw fire proved by satisfactory arguments that fire burns. his hearer's mind would never be satisfied, nor would he avoid the fire until he put his hand in it that he might learn by experiment what argument taught.
In confession... we open our lives to healing, reconciling, restoring, uplifting grace of him who loves us in spite of what we are.
It is sometimes necessary to lie damnably in the interests of the nation.
Restlessness is discontent - and discontent is the first necessity of progress. Show me a thoroughly satisfied man - and I will show you a failure.
He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill. Our antagonist is our helper. â¢Edmund Burke Which fiddle-strings is weakness to expredge my nerves this night!
He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves, and sharpens our skill. Our antagonist is our helper.
If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.
A wise neuter joins with neither, but uses both as his honest interest leads him.
Silent, grim, colossal, the Big City has ever stood against its revilers. They call it hard as iron; they say that nothing of pity beats in its bosom; they compare its streets with lonely forests and deserts of lava. But beneath the hard crust of the lobster is found a delectable and luscious food. Perhaps a different simile would have been wiser. Still nobody should take offence. We would call nobody a lobster with good and sufficient claws.
Far below and around lay the city like a ragged purple dream. The irregular houses were like the broken exteriors of cliffs lining deep gulches and winding streams. Some were mountainous; some lay in long, monotonous rows like, the basalt precipices hanging over desert canons. Such was the background of the wonderful, cruel, enchanting, bewildering, fatal, great city. But into this background were cut myriads of brilliant parallelograms and circles and squares through which glowed many colored lights. And out of the violet and purple depths ascended like the city's soul, sound and odors and thrills that make up the civic body. There arose the breath of gaiety unrestrained, of love, of hate, of all the passions that man can know. There below him lay all things, good or bad, that can be brought from the four corners of the earth to instruct, please, thrill, enrich, elevate, cast down, nurture or kill. Thus the flavor of it came up to him and went into his blood.
Hark! ah, the nightingale-- The tawny-throated! Hark from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark!--what pain! . . . . Again--thou hearest? Eternal passion! Eternal pain!
To look backward for a while is to refresh the eye, to restore it, and to render it the more fit for its prime function of looking forward.
How beautiful it is to do nothing, and then rest afterward.
The news is staged, anticipated, reported, analyzed until all interest is wrung from it and abandoned for some new novelty.
He who can take no great interest in what is small will take false interest in what is great.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
October's child is born for woe, And life's vicissitudes must know; But lay on Opal on her breast, And hope will lull those woes to rest.
Opinions have vested interests just as men have.
There is a nick in Fortune's restless wheel For each man's good.
Sometimes only a change of viewpoint is needed to convert a tiresome duty into an interesting opportunity.
