They enslave their children's children who make compromise with sin.
Idleness induces caprice.
A man is old when he can pass an apple orchard and not remember the stomachache.
No man is born into the world whose work Is not born with him. There is always work, And tools to work withal, for those who will; And blessed are the horny hands of toil.
The realm of death seems an enemy's country to most men, on whose shores they are loathly driven by stress of weather; to the wise man it is the desired port where he moors his bark gladly, as in some quiet haven of the Fortunate Isles; it is the golden west into which his sun sinks, and, sinking, casts back a glory upon the leaden cloud-tack which had darkly besieged his day.
Democracy is that form of society, no matter what its political classification, in which every man has a chance and knows that he has it.
What means this glory round our feet, The Magi mused, "more bright than morn!" And voices chanted clear and sweet, "To-day the Prince of Peace is born.
Incredulity robs us of many pleasures, and gives us nothing in return.
Pride and weakness are Siamese twins.
In the gain or loss of one race all the rest have equal claim.
And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days.
And blessed are the horny hands of toil.
The eye is the notebook of the poet.
If we see light at the end of the tunnel, it's the light of the oncoming train.
Not failure, but low aim, is crime.
Solitude is as needful to the imagination as society is wholesome for the character.
Ah, in this world, where every guiding thread Ends suddenly in the one sure centre, death, The visionary hand of Might-have-been Alone can fill Desire's cup to the brim!
O chime of sweet Saint Charity, Peal soon that Easter morn When Christ for all shall risen be, And in all hearts new-born! That Pentecost when utterance clear To all men shall be given, When all shall say My Brother here, And hear My Son in heaven!
Greatly begin. Though thou have time, but for a line, be that sublime. Not failure, but low aim is crime.
Christ was the first true democrat that ever breathed, as the old dramatist Dekkar said he was the first true gentleman.
What visionary tints the year puts on, When falling leaves falter through motionless air Or numbly cling and shiver to be gone! How shimmer the low flats and pastures bare, As with her nectar Hebe Autumn fills The bowl between me and those distant hills, And smiles and shakes abroad her misty, tremulous hair!
No price is set on the lavish summer; June may be had by the poorest comer.
The traitor to Humanity is the traitor most accursed; Man is more than Constitutions; better rot beneath the sod, Than be true to Church and State while we are doubly false to God.
Winds wanders, and dews drip earthward; Rains fall, suns rise and set; Earth whirls, and all but to prosper A poor little violet.
It is curious how tyrannical the habit of reading is...
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