John Milton Quotes
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale gessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well attir'd woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears: Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
John Milton
Quotes to Explore
This place is phenomenal. The fans are right on top of the players. You feed off that adrenaline. I really think this environment is a vital part of what's happening here.
Dick Vitale
Truly the universe is full of ghosts, not sheeted churchyard spectres, but the inextinguishable elements of individual life, which having once been, can never die, though they blend and change, and change again for ever.
H. Rider Haggard
I find that most of wake up day, not because we genuinely 'want' to, but because we have to. We have to be somewhere, do something, answer to or take care of someone. But when you shift your intention and create a genuine desire - event enthusiasm - for waking up in the morning, your entire life changes.
Hal Elrod
People remember you as you leave a program not in the middle of it or how you came in. And I think that's something they're all trying to focus on.
Dan Monson
Pity was meant to be a spur that drives joy to help misery. But it can be used the wrong way round. It can be used for a kind of blackmailing. Those who choose misery can hold joy up to ransom, by pity.
C. S. Lewis
If you can imagine it...it is real.
Pablo Picasso
For a prince should have two fears: one, internal concerning his subjects; the other, external, concerning foreign powers. From the latter he can always defend himself by his good troops and friends; and he will always have good friends if he has good troops.
Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe, and pale gessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well attir'd woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears: Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
John Milton
