Stand firm as the tower that never shakes its top whatever wind may blow.
Great towers take time to construct.
Do you wish to rise? Begin by descending. You plan a tower that will pierce the clouds? Lay first the foundation of humility.
Our problems may tower over us, but God towers over our problems.
Be as a tower firmly set; Shakes not its top for any blast that blows.
Be like a solid tower whose brave height remains unmoved by all the winds that blow; the man who lets his thoughts be turned aside by one thing or another, will lose sight of his true goal, his mind sapped of its strength.
A man's mind is wont to tell him more than seven watchmen sitting in a tower.
Do you wish to rise? Begin by descending.
From a proud tower in the town, Death looks gigantically down.
The lofty pine is oftenest shaken by the winds; High towers fall with a heavier crash; And the lightning strikes the highest mountain.
From whatever you wish to know and measure you must take your leave, at least for a time. Only when you have left the town can yousee how high its towers rise above the houses.
Pride juggles with her toppling towers, They strike the sun and cease, But the firm feet of humility They grip the ground like trees.
Character is both formed and revealed by how one deals with everyday situations as well as extraordinary pressures and temptations. Like a well-made tower, character is built stone by stone, decision by decision.
A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.
Brave men are a city's strongest tower of defence.
Living in a tower, however secure it may feel, is hardly a social attribute.
A great city, whose image dwells in the memory of man, is the type of some great idea. Rome represents conquest; Faith hovers over the towers of Jerusalem; and Athens embodies the pre-eminent quality of the antique world, Art.
There is some good in this world, and it's worth fighting for.
Beautiful city! . . . spreading her gardens to the moonlight, and whispering from her towers the last enchantments of the Middle Age . . . her ineffable charm. . . . Adorable dreamer, whose heart has been so romantic!
There is nothing more poetic and terrible than the skyscrapers' battle with the heavens that cover them. Snow, rain, and mist highlight, drench, or conceal the vast towers, but those towers, hostile to mystery and blind to any sort of play, shear off the rain's tresses and shine their three thousand swords through the soft swan of the fog.
Unfortunately the innocent are always involved in any conflict. Always, everywhere, there is some voice crying from a tower.
A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night.
A satisfied customer. We should have him stuffed.
And sometimes you didn't want to know the end… because how could the end be happy?
Many live in the ivory tower called reality; they never venture on the open sea of thought.
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