Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure, Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure, Married in haste, we may repent at leisure.
Here Greek and Roman find themselves Alive along these crowded shelves And Shakespeare treads again his stage, And Chaucer paints anew his age.
In theory one is aware that the earth revolves, but in practice one does not perceive it, the ground upon which one treads seems not to move, and one can live undisturbed. So it is with Time in one's life.
A thousand spleens bear her a thousand ways;
She treads the path that she untreads again;
Her more than haste is mated with delays,
Like the proceedings of a drunken brain,
Full of respects, yet nought at all respecting;
In hand with all things, nought at all effecting.
Degged with dew, dappled with dew Are the groins of the braes that the brook treads through, Wiry heathpacks, flitches of fern, And the headbonny ash that sits over the burn.
I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed.
Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.
The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, But in another country, as he said, Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon.
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven, Whiles, like a puffd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads, And recks not his own rede. counsel.
A person who, because he has corns himself, always treads on other people's toes.
And sharp the link of life will snap,
And dead on air will stand
Heels that held up as straight a chap
As treads upon the land.
If a man wishes to be sure of the road he treads on, he must close his eyes and walk in the dark.
Thus, when the lamp that lighted The traveller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted, And looks around in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering As that light which Heaven sheds.
In the sacred precinct of that dwelling where the despotic woman wields the sceptre of fierce neatness, one treads as if he carried his life in his hands.
There is nothing keeps longer than a middling fortune, and nothing melts away sooner than a great one. Poverty treads on the heels of great and unexpected riches.
Too late I stayed, forgive the crime Unheeded flew the hours How noiseless falls the foot of time That only treads on flowers.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories