Richard Le Gallienne Quotes
We are all treading the vanishing road of a song in the air, the vanishing road of the spring flowers and the winter snows, the vanishing roads of the winds and the streams, the vanishing road of beloved faces.
Quotes to Explore
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Bill Mitchell said he really liked it. But when he asked the other four their opinions, we all took one look at ourselves in our raggedy long winter coats and cracked up. We knew we weren't likely to tempt anyone or anything, but what the hell, it was as good a name as any.
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Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face.
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It feels like Gangstarr is the purest group in hip-hop. They was shooting videos on the beach in the winter when the water was ice. Razor-blade music.
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For those of us imprisoned in Poland, the Prague Spring was a harbinger of hope.
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Flowers... are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world.
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The winter solstice has always been special to me as a barren darkness that gives birth to a verdant future beyond imagination, a time of pain and withdrawal that produces something joyfully inconceivable, like a monarch butterfly masterfully extracting itself from the confines of its cocoon, bursting forth into unexpected glory.
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The All-Wise Maker attaches hundreds of instances of wisdom to each of the beings in the palace of the universe and equips them to perform hundreds of duties. To all trees He bestows instances of wisdom to the number of its fruits and gives duties to the number of its flowers.
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Protecting a border is not a nice thing. It is not a matter of aesthetics; it cannot be done with flowers and teddy bears.
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The main difference between the Prague Spring and the Velvet Revolution was that the former was mostly the work of Communist party members and others who wanted to bring about 'socialism with a human face.'
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The Arab Spring is kind of a perfect model for how people are going to use technology to act collectively in their own interest in the future. There's never been a revolution that was coordinated by social media to the degree that the Arab Spring was.
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I've been told that N.Y. in the spring is pretty special.
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There's still something so pure and heartfelt and emotional and genuine about a bouquet of flowers that, even with all the advances of technology and the millions of ways we have to communicate with each other, flowers are still relevant in my opinion.
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The attacks of which I have been the object have broken the spring of life in me... People don't realize what it feels like to be constantly insulted.
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Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.
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The Americans combine the notions of Christianity and of liberty so intimately in their minds, that it is impossible to make them conceive the one without the other; and with them this conviction does not spring from that barren traditionary faith which seems to vegetate in the soul rather than to live.
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If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
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I swear that I'm dyingslowly but it's happening, and if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere...just take me there.
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The perfect winter's night for me would be with all the family together. As you get a little older and everybody has their jobs and then families and kids, it definitely becomes harder to get everybody together at once.
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I love sunflowers. They're one of my favorite flowers.
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I am the first to point out that I really am not kind to illustrators. By that, I mean I really don't give that much to work with.
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Man is immortal; therefore he must die endlessly. For life is a creative idea; it can only find itself in changing forms
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I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain - and back in rain. I have out walked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet. When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly light, One luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.
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We are all treading the vanishing road of a song in the air, the vanishing road of the spring flowers and the winter snows, the vanishing roads of the winds and the streams, the vanishing road of beloved faces.
