Sighing that Nature formed but one such man, and broke the die.
Glory, like the phoenix 'midst her fires, Exhales her odours, blazes, and expires.
How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm! I thank thee, night! for thou has chased away these horrid bodements which, amidst the throng, I could not dissipate; and with the blessing of thy benign and quiet influence now will I to my couch, although to rest is almost wronging such a night as this.
A good coach encourages the same type of resilience in the people they work with. They encourage them to take risks. If the risk results in failure, they help all people to learn from the mistake and then go on to try another way.
I really cannot know whether I am or am not the Genius you are pleased to call me, but I am very willing to put up with the mistake, if it be one. It is a title dearly enough bought by most men, to render it endurable, even when not quite clearly made out, which it never can be till the Posterity, whose decisions are merely dreams to ourselves, has sanctioned or denied it, while it can touch us no further.
History - the devil's scripture
I can't but say it is an awkward sight To see one's native land receding through The growing waters; it unmans one quite, Especially when life is rather new.
Ecclesiastes said that "all is vanity," Most modern preachers say the same, or show it By their examples of true Christianity: In short, all know, or very short may know it.
Know ye not who would be free themselves must strike the blow? by their right arms the conquest must be wrought?
The devil hath not, in all his quiver's choice, An arrow for the heart like a sweet voice.
Shakespeare's name, you may depend on it, stands absurdly too high and will go down.
The simple Wordsworth . . . / Who, both by precept and example, shows / That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose.
What want these outlaws conquerors should have but history's purchased page to call them great?
Christians have burnt each other, quite persuaded. That all the Apostles would have done as they did.
O Fame! if I ever took delight in thy praises, Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases, Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover The thought that I was not unworthy to love her.
Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay, Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
I have a passion for the name of "Mary," For once it was a magic sound to me, And still it half calls up the realms of fairy, Where I beheld what never was to be.
Egeria! sweet creation of some heart Which found no mortal resting-place so fair As thine ideal breast.
Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!
As soon seek roses in December, ice in June, Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff Believe a woman or an epitaph Or any other thing that’s false Before you trust in critics.
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art, For there thy habitation is the heart-- The heart which love of thee alone can bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd-- To fetters and damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom.
Such hath it been--shall be--beneath the sun The many still must labour for the one.
Religion-freedom-vengeance-what you will, A word's enough to raise mankind to kill.
Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou? Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead? Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low Some less majestic, less beloved head?
Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story; The days of our youth are the days of our glory; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
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