Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow.
Language is the blood of the soul into which thoughts run and out of which they grow.
The man who is always worrying about whether or not his soul would be damned generally has a soul that isn't worth a damn.
Build thee more stately mansions, O my soul, As the swift seasons roll Leave thy low-vaulted past Let each new temple, nobler than the last, Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, Till thou at length art free, Leaving thine outgrown shell by life's unresting sea.
Take a music bath once or twice a week for a few seasons, and you will find that it is to the soul what the water-bath is to the body.
For him in vain the envious seasons roll, Who bears eternal summer in his soul.
The books we read should be chosen with great care, that they may be, as an Egyptian king wrote over his library, The medicines of the soul.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories