Quotes to inspire and reflect

A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year.

my father moved through dooms of love through sames of am through haves of give, singing each morning out of each night my father moved through depths of height

Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees That half a proper gardener’s work is done upon his knees.

How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face.

In the bleak midwinter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, Long ago.

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

That Love is all there is, Is all we know of Love; It is enough, the freight should be Proportioned to the groove.

Never the time and the place And the loved one all together!

Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day’s occupations, That is known as the Children’s Hour.

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another, 2 Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and a silence.

Once more upon the waters, yet once more! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider!

Fare thee well! and if forever, Still forever, fare thee well.

Heap on more wood!—the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We’ll keep our Christmas merry still.

This day Time winds th’ exhausted chain, To run the twelvemonth’s length again.

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay; Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made; But a bold peasantry, their country’s pride, When once destroy’d, can never be supplied.

He turn’d him right and round about Upon the Irish shore; And gae his bridle reins a shake, With adieu forevermore, And adieu forevermore!

Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow; The rest is all but leather or prunella.

Man may escape from rope and gun; Nay, some have outliv’d the doctor’s pill: Who takes a woman must be undone, That basilisk is sure to kill. The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets, So he that tastes woman, woman, woman, He that tastes woman, ruin meets.

It was the winter wild While the Heav’n-born child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies.

But who is this, what thing of sea or land? Female of sex it seems, That so bedeck’d, ornate, and gay, Comes this way sailing Like a stately ship Of Tarsus, bound for th’ isles Of Javan or Gadire, With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, Sails fill’d, and streamers waving, Courted by all the winds that hold them play; An amber scent of odorous perfume Her harbinger?

This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heav’n’s eternal King, Of wedded maid and virgin mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That He our deadly forfeit should release, And with His Father work us a perpetual peace.

The firstling of the infant year.

So, so, break off this last lamenting kiss, Which sucks two souls, and vapors both away.

As many farewells as be stars in heaven.

Time is like a fashionable host, That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arms outstretch’d, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing.

It faded on the crowing of the cock. Some say that ever ’gainst that season comes Wherein our Savior’s birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long; And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad; The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow’d and so gracious is the time.

Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition; Two lovely berries molded on one stem.

Learn to obey before you command.

To be the father unto many sons.

To a father growing old nothing is dearer than a daughter.

There is no such thing as a lovers' oath.

New Year's is a harmless annual institution, of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, and friendly calls and humbug resolutions.

Now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.

What ought to be done to the man who invented the celebrating of anniversaries? Mere killing would be too light.

The first of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days of the year.

When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.

I cannot help but notice that there is no problem between us that cannot be solved by your departure.

You meet people who forget you. You forget people you meet. But sometimes you meet those people you can't forget. Those are your 'friend s

I am Goya

 

I am in fact a Hobbit (in all but size). I likegardens, trees, and unmechanized farmlands; I smoke a pipe, and like good plain food (unrefrigerated), but detest French cooking; I like, and even dare to wear in these dull days, ornamental waistcoats. I am fond of mushrooms (out of a field); have a very simple sense of humor (which even my appreciative critics find tiresome); I go to bed late and get up late (when possible). I do not travel much.

 

We enact many laws that manufacturecriminals, and then a few that punish them.

 

I speak no comfort to you, for there is no comfort for such pain within the circles of the world. The uttermost choice is before you: to repent and go to the Havens and bear away into the West the memory of our days together that shall there be evergreen but never more than memory; or else to abide the Doom of Men.

 

[ Sam Gamgee speaking :] “Well, I’m back,” he said.

 

“I will take the Ring,” he said, “though I do not know the way.”

 

“The realm of Sauron is ended!” said Gandalf.

 

Do not laugh! But once upon a time (my crest has long since fallen) I had a mind to make abody of more or less connected legend, rangingfrom the large and cosmogonic, to the level ofromantic fairy-story—the larger founded onthe lesser in contact with the earth, the lesserdrawing splendor from the vast backcloths—which I could dedicate simply to: to England; tomy country.

 

The Road goes ever on and on