John Keats Quotes
And such too is the grandeur of the doomsWe have imagined for the mighty dead;All lovely tales that we have heard or read:An endless fountain of immortal drink,Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.
John Keats
Quotes to Explore
One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation.
Walter Scott
I want to have a career in 10, 20 years, so it's harder now, and maybe more stressful now, but in the future, hopefully it will all pay off.
Verite
I don't sleep well. I rehash everything in bed. The mind's still working.
Hale Irwin
If a great outfit gets you one step closer to feeling good about yourself, then it's worth every penny.
Rachel Roy
What is more comforting to the terrorists around the world: the failure to pass the 9/11 legislation because we lacked a majority of the majority,' or putting aside partisan politics to enact tough new legislation with America's security foremost in mind?
Rahm Emanuel
My own military background is wholly un-distinguished. I was a sergeant.
W. E. B. Griffin
The marvel of marvels is not that God, in His infinite love, has not elected all this guilty race to be saved, but that He has elected any.
B. B. Warfield
To endeavor to domineer over conscience, is to invade the citadel of heaven.
Charles V
Beauty ought to look a little surprised: it is the emotion that best suits her face. The beauty who does not look surprised, who accepts her position as her due - she reminds us too much of a prima donna.
E. M. Forster
If her past were your past, her pain your pain, her level of consciousness your level of consciousness, you would think and act exactly as she does. With this realization comes forgiveness, compassion, peace.
Eckhart Tolle
And such too is the grandeur of the doomsWe have imagined for the mighty dead;All lovely tales that we have heard or read:An endless fountain of immortal drink,Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink.
John Keats