But blast the man, with curses loud and deep, Whate'er the rascal's name, or age, or station, Who first invented, and went round advising, That artificial cut-off, Early Rising!
When the warrior returns, from the battle afar,To the home and the country he nobly defended,O! warm be the welcome to gladden his ear,And loud be the joy that his perils are ended:In the full tide of song let his fame roll along,To the feast-flowing board let us gratefully throng,Where, mixed with the olive, the laurel shall wave,And form a bright wreath for the brows of the brave.
You are now In London, that great sea, whose ebb and flow At once is deaf and loud, and on the shore Vomits its wrecks, and still howls on for more. Yet in its depth what treasures!
The howl of self-interest is loud ... but the heart is black which throbs solely to its note.
Has the gift of laughter been withdrawn from me? I protest that I do still, at the age of forty-seven, laugh often and loud and long. But not, I believe, so long and loud and often as in my less smiling youth. And I am proud, nowadays, of laughing, and grateful to any one who makes me laugh. That is a bad sign. I no longer take laughter as a matter of course.
The wild sea roars and lashes the granite cliffs below,And round the misty islets the loud strong tempests blow.
Life is not to be told, call it as loud as you like, it will not tell itself.
The poetical tendency of the present and of the preceding century has been divided in a manner singularly curious. One loud and conspicuous faction of bards, giving way to the corrupt influences of a decaying general culture, seems to have abandoned all the properties of versification and reason in its mad scramble after sensational novelty; whilst the other and quieter school constituting a more logical evolution from the poesy of the Georgian period, demands an accuracy of rhyme and metre unknown even to the polished artists of the age of Pope.
I'm spending nights just dreaming / And playing the music loud / They're banging on the ceiling / They're praying that I'll soon be out.
You can spend your life competing in a world that talks too loud / You can lose your own direction getting lost among the crowd / Confusion - is it any wonder that the road ahead's not clear / Well you can try too hard to find it now I realise it's here
Licker talks mighty loud w'en it git loose fum de jug.
My favorite thing is being able to travel around the world and perform for my fans. I think I've lost 80 percent of my hearing. I definitely have very loud fans.
The result of [the] cumulative efforts to investigate the cell - to investigate life at the molecular level - is a loud, clear, piercing cry of 'design!' The result is so unambiguous and so significant that it must be ranked as one of the greatest achievements in the history of science. The discovery rivals those of Newton and Einstein, Lavoisier and Schrödinger, Pasteur, and Darwin. The observation of the intelligent design of life is as momentous as the observation that the earth goes around the sun.
Cicero said loud-bawling orators were driven by their weakness to noise, as lame men to take horse.
Perhaps the enemies of liberty are such only because they judge it by its loud voice. If they knew its charms, the dignity that accompanies it, how much a free man feels like a king, the perpetual inner light that is produced by decorous self-awareness and realization, perhaps there would be no greater friends of freedom than those who are its worst enemies.
Soun is noght but air ybroken, And every speche that is spoken, Loud or privee, foul or fair, In his substaunce is but air; For as flaumbe is but lighted smoke, Right so soun is air ybroke.
I first foreswore motherhood when I was about eight years old. ... [Children] were annoying. We were loud and sneaky and broke things. As an eight-year-old, maybe I was simply mortified by the prospect of being saddled with myself.
There is surely no more unselfish person than the anthologist. For while all we others are striving to ensure our own immortality with eagerness, beguilements, buffooneries, loud voices, 'the sound of battle and garments rolled in blood,' the anthologist is quietly ensuring the immortality of somebody else.
In truth, “Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close” isn't about Sept. 11. It's about the impulse to drain that day of its specificity and turn it into yet another wellspring of generic emotions: sadness, loneliness, happiness. This is how kitsch works. It exploits familiar images, be they puppies or babies - or, as in the case of this movie, the twin towers - and tries to make us feel good, even virtuous, simply about feeling. And, yes, you may cry, but when tears are milked as they are here, the truer response should be rage.
Prophets are so dangerous because they cry in season and out of season, politely and impolitely, loud and long.
Sound, sound the trump of Fame! Let Washington's great name Ring through the world with loud applause; Let every clime to Freedom dear Listen with a joyful ear. With equal skill, with god-like power, He governs in the fearful hour Of horrid war, or guides with ease, The happier times of honest peace.
Nowadays, it is possible to perform various forms of Low-Impact listening via the telephone. The advent of technological advances such as computer games and online services (like ones that let you check stocks) have enabled Low-Impact listeners to endure family phone calls much longer than in the past. Dangers include mouse clicks, heavy typing, or a sudden loud buzzer that goes off when you have finished Boggle.
We were made to believe / our faces betrayed us. / Our bodies were loud / with yellow / screaming flesh / needing to be silenced / behind barbed wire.
The real champions in life are so humble and gracious. They just continue doing what they do without all the posturing. If you've got the real thing, you don't have to flaunt a loud imitation.
My records are fairly quiet and my dj sets are really loud. And then the live shows are like a robot soul revue. So i understand people's confusion.
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