Edward Lear Quotes
They sailed away for a year and a dayTo the land where the bong-tree grows.
Edward Lear
Quotes to Explore
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Hemingway's minimalism is based on the psychological mechanics of repression. An echo of his approach can be detected in a favorite trope of 1980s minimalists: a pattern of reference to dire secrets and hidden wounds these authors didn't realize they were supposed to have imagined.
Madison Smartt Bell
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I never grew up seeing women that looked like me in magazines or on TV and didn't feel like I had a place in the world of fashion. I am honoured to be part of that change.
Halima Aden
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As long as humans have existed, we have always desired to live longer. Every society, every religion, every culture. Of course, they all failed at dramatic life extension.
S. Jay Olshansky
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I think a captain is someone who captains on the cricket field but, most of the leadership that happens is off the cricket field. It's very easy to captain people on the cricket field, but if you can start leading them off the cricket field, and show them that trust, what you have in them.
Gautam Gambhir
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Let me rejoice in the light which Thou hast imparted; let me serve Thee with active zeal, humbled confidence, and wait with patient expectation for the time in which the soul which Thou receivest shall be satisfied with knowledge.
Samuel Johnson
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Every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier, or not having been at sea.
Samuel Johnson
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The democratic youth lives along day by day, gratifying the desire that occurs to him, at one time drinking and listening to the flute, at another downing water and reducing, now practicing gymnastic, and again idling and neglecting everything; and sometimes spending his time as though he were occupied in philosophy.
Plato
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I get lost in my right brain, especially in creative things.
Jeff Ament
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I could compare my music to white light which contains all colours. Only a prism can divide the colours and make them appear; this prism could be the spirit of the listener.
Arvo Part
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The present flowed by them like a stream. The tree rustled. It had made music before they were born, and would continue after their deaths, but its song was of the moment. The moment had passed. The tree rustled again. Their senses were sharpened, and they seemed to apprehend life. Life passed. The tree rustled again.
E. M. Forster
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Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.
William Cowper
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They sailed away for a year and a dayTo the land where the bong-tree grows.
Edward Lear