Quotes
Quotes about Sun
See the sun! God's crest upon His azure shield, the Heavens.
The sun, centre and sire of light, The keystone of the world-built arch of heaven.
See the gold sunshine patching, And streaming and streaking across The gray-green oaks; and catching, By its soft brown beard, the moss.
Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down.
Make hay while the sun shines.
The sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun, Is Nature's eye.
Such words fall to often on our cold and careless ears with the triteness of long familiarity; but to Octavia . . . they seemed to be written in sunbeams.
Let others hail the rising sun: I bow to that whose course is run.
Failing yet gracious, Slow pacing, soon homing, A patriarch that strolls Through the tents of his children, The sun as he journeys His round on the lower Ascents of the blue, Washes the roofs And the hillsides with clarity.
She stood breast-high amid the corn, Clasp'd by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.
The great duties of life are written with a sunbeam.
When the sun sets, shadows, that showed at noon But small, appear most long and terrible.
Thou shalt come out of a warme Sunne into God's blessing.
The sun shineth upon the dunghill and is not corrupted.
Whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light? Thou comest forth, in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western waves. But thou, thyself, movest alone.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
Our life's a flying shadow, God's the pole, The index pointing at Him is our soul; Death the horizon, when our sun is set, Which will through Christ a resurrection get.
Be ye angry, and sin not: let not the sun go down upon your wrath: Neither give place to the devil.
True as the needle to the pole, Or as the dial to the sun.
True as the dial to the sun, Although it be not shin'd upon.
"Horas non numero nisi serenas." There stands in the garden of old St. Mark A sun dial quaint and gray. It takes no heed of the hours which in dark Pass o'er it day by day. It has stood for ages amid the flowers In that land of sky and song. "I number none but the cloudless hours," Its motto the live day long.
I mark my hours by shadow; Mayest thou mark thine By sunshine.
Let others tell of storms and showers, I'll only mark your sunny hours.
Come watch with me the shaft of fire that glows In yonder West: the fair, frail palaces, The fading Alps and archipelagoes, And great cloud-continents of sunset-seas.
