Into whose conquest no one in this world enters, by what track can you lead him, the Awakened, the Omniscient, the trackless
Quotes about trackless (8 Quotes)
We watch the liner in the distance glide Out from the sheltered waters of the bay, Into the arms of oceans vastness won. Enfolded in infinity of tide We lose it, and the last faint smoke line gray Merges into the sunset and is gone. Vanished from sight and lost, art thou, at sea, Swallowed in ocean's blue immensity Ah, no. Though trackless be the deep, and wide, Thy pilot shall bring thee triumphantly Into the harbor on the other side.
I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive, what time, what circuit first, I ask not but unless God send his hail Or blinding fire-balls, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive He guides me and the bird. In his good time.
It was that period in the vernal quarter when we may suppose the Dryads to be waking for the season. The vegetable world begins to move and swell and the saps to rise, till in the completest silence of lone gardens and trackless plantations, where everything seems helpless and still after the bond and slavery of frost, there are bustlings, strainings, united thrusts, and pulls-all-together, in comparison with which the powerful tugs of cranes and pulleys in a noisy city are but pigmy efforts.
At the dawn of history India started on her unending quest, and trackless centuries are filled with her striving and the grandeur of her success and her failures. Through good and ill fortune alike she has never lost sight of that quest or forgotten the ideals which gave her strength.
I have, for many years past, contemplated the noble races of red men who are now spread over these trackless forests and boundless prairies, melting away at the approach of civilization.
All is going on as it was wont. The waves are hoarse with repetition of their mystery the dust lies piled upon the shore the sea-birds soar and hover the winds and clouds go forth upon their trackless flight the white arms beckon, in the moonlight, to the invisible country far away.
A few men own from ten thousand to two hundred thousand acres each. The poor Laborer can find no resting place, save on the barren mountain, or in the trackless desert.