A man must know how to estimate a sour face. The sour face of the multitude, like thier sweet faces, have no deep cause, but are put on and off as the wind blows and the newspaper directs.
The green eyes in the carefully sweet face were turbulent, willful, lusty with life, distinctly at variance with her decorous demeanor. Her manners had been imposed upon her ... her eyes were her own.
Everyone tells me that I have a very sweet face! I'd like to change that. I wish I had a more flexible face!
I wonder if anyone but me realizes what goes on in that head back of your deceptively sweet face.
A sweet face oft hides a sinner's heart.
Tis not for golden eloquence I pray, A godlike tongue to move a stony heart-- Methinks it were full well to be apart In solitary uplands far away, Betwixt the blossoms of a rosy spray, Dreaming upon the wonderful sweet face Of Nature, in a wild and pathless place.
When Emerson's library was burning at Concord, I went to him as he stood with the firelight on his strong, sweet face, and endeavored to express my sympathy for the loss of his most valued possessions, but he answered cheerily, 'Never mind, Louisa, see what a beautiful blaze they make! We will enjoy that now.' The lesson was one never forgotten and in the varied lessons that have come to me I have learned to look for something beautiful and bright.
My dearly beloved if I am to die today and never see the sweet face of you I want you to know that I am no great man and am lucky to have such a woman as you.
When we complain of having to do the same thing over and over, let us remember that God does not send new trees, strange flowers and different grasses every year. When the spring winds blow, they blow in the same way. In the same places the same dear blossoms lift up the same sweet faces, yet they never weary us. When it rains, it rains as it always has. Even so would the same tasks which fill our daily lives put on new meanings if we wrought them in the spirit of renewal from within--a spirit of growth and beauty.
If my daughter has a bad dream and wants to get into my bed, I'm a sucker for her sweet face and warm body next to mine, so I let her jump in. I should tell her to go to bed, but secretly I love it.
You asked me once if I would still love you when your lips were puckered with age and your eyes were faded. I can assure you that I will still love you when I have only the strength (and the scant teeth) left to gum those puckered lips. I shall love you when your bones are sharp enough to pierce my fragile flesh. I shall love you when the light in my own eyes fades for good and yours is the last sweet face I see. Because I am and ever shall be.
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