I hold that when a person dies / His soul returns again to earth; / Arrayed in some new flesh disguise / Another mother gives him birth / With sturdier limbs and brighter brain.
I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky; and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.
Love is a flame to set the will on fire
To most of us the future seems unsure. But then it always has been; and we who have seen great changes must have great hopes.
Humans consist of body, mind and imagination. Our bodies are faulty, our minds untrustworthy, but our imagination has made us remarkable.
The days that make us happy make us wise
I have seen flowers come in stony places And kind things done by men with ugly faces, And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races, So I trust, too.
The three foundations of judgement: Bold Design, Constant Practice, and Frequent Mistakes.
Success is the brand on the brow of the man who aimed too low.
Life, a beauty chased by tragic laughter.
There are few earthly things more beautiful than a university a place where those who hate ignorance may strive to know, where those who perceive truth may strive to make others see.
Life is a long headache in a noisy street.
God warms his hands at man's heart when he prays.
All I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by.
Men in a ship are always looking up, and men ashore are usually looking down.
Man's body is faulty, his mind untrustworthy, but his imagination has made him remarkable.
God dropped a spark down into everyone, And if we find and fan it to a blaze, It'll spring up and glow, like--like the sun, And light the wandering out of stony ways.
Once in a century a man may be ruined or made insufferable by praise. But surely once in a minute something generous dies for want of it.
Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.
So shall I fight, so shall I tread, In this long war beneath the stars; So shall a glory wreathe my head, So shall I faint and show the scars, Until this case, this clogging mould, Be smithied all to kingly gold.
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April's in the West wind, and daffodils.
And may we find when ended is the page, Death but a tavern on our pilgrimage.
The luck will alter and the star will rise.
My road leads me seawards To the white dipping sails.
And he who gives a child a treat Makes joy-bells ring in Heaven's street, And he who gives a child a home Builds palaces in Kingdom come, And she who gives a baby birth Brings Saviour Christ again to Earth.
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