The question of common sense is ''what is it good for'' A question which would abolish the rose and be answered triumphantly by the cabbage.
The question of common sense is ''what is it good for'' A question which would abolish the rose and be answered triumphantly by the cabbage.
Is my mother my friend I would have to say, first of all she is my Mother, with a capital 'M' she's something sacred to me. I love her dearly...yes, she is also a good friend, someone I can talk openly with if I want to
New occasions teach new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth, They must upward still and onward, who would keep abreast of truth
Of all the sarse that I can call to mind, England does make the most onpleasant kind It's you're the sinner 'ollers, she's the saint Wut's good's all English, all thet isn't ain't.
Wealth may be an excellent thing, for it means power, and it means leisure, it means liberty.
They talk about their Pilgrim blood, their birthright high and holy a mountain-stream that ends in mud thinks is melancholy.
In the gain or loss of one race all the rest have equal claim
Endurance is the crowning quality...
It is curious how tyrannical the habit of reasoning is
Certainly it is no shame to a man that he should be as nice about his country as his sweetheart,- yet it would not be wise to hold everyone an enemy who could not see her with our own enchanted eyes
A man is old when he can pass an apple orchard and not remember the stomach ache.
Sorrow is the great idealizer.
Good heavens, of what uncostly material is our earthly happiness composed... if we only knew it. What incomes have we not had from a flower, and how unfailing are the dividends of the seasons.
The brain can be easy to buy, but the heart never comes to market.
Stories now, to suit a public taste, must be half epigram, half pleasant vice
There is no self-delusion more fatal than that which makes the conscience dreamy with the anodyne of lofty sentiments, while the life is groveling and sensual
Some day the soft Ideal that we wooed confronts us fiercely, foe-beset, pursued, and cries reproachful ''Was it then my praise, and not myself was loved Prove now thy truth I claim of thee the promise of thy youth.''
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories