Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Think not because no man sees, such things will remain unseen.
Each morning sees some task begin, each evening sees it close.
The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain.
Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and childlike.
The counterfeit and counterpart of Nature is reproduced in art.
What shall I say to you? What can I say Better than silence is?
Ah, the souls of those that die Are but sunbeams lifted higher.
Difficulty on the way to victory is opportunity for God to work
Ne speaketh not; and yet there lies a conversation in his eyes.
There are favorable hours for reading a book, as for writing it.
But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.
Something attempted, something done, Has earned a nights repose.
Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll.
Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.
If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning!
Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.
He spoke well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.
I will be a man among men; and no longer a dreamer among shadows.
Sang in tones of deep emotion Songs of love and songs of longing.
Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.
I shot an arrow into the air, it fell to earth, I knew not where.
For next to being a great poet is the power of understanding one.
From dust thou art to dust returneth, was not spoken of the soul.
Truly, this world can go on without us, if we would but think so.
"Do not fear! Heaven is as near," He said, "by water as by land!"
The picture that approaches sculpture nearest Is the best picture.
The hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.
Success is not something to wait for, it is something to work for.
And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.
The low desire, the base design That makes another's virtues less.
That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.
It is the heart and not the brain, That to the highest doth attain.
We are all architects of faith, ever living in these walls of time.
When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.
I see, but cannot reach, the height That lies forever in the light.
Fear is the virtue of slaves; but the heart that loveth is willing.
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark
I love an author the more for having been himself a lover of books.
Thou shalt learn The wisdom early to discern True beauty in utility.
The heaven of poetry and romance still lies around us and within us.
Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.
The dawn is not distant, nor is the night starless; love is eternal.
Our pleasures and our discontents, Are rounds by which we may ascend.
And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence.
O beautiful, awful summer day, what hast thou given, what taken away?
One half the world must sweat and groan that the other half may dream.
What seems to us but dim funeral tapers may be heaven's distant lamps.
When we walk towards the sun of Truth, all shadows are cast behind us.
The air is full of farewells to the dying. And mournings for the dead.
Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week.