Look abroad through Nature's range, Nature's mighty law is change.
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Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
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O eloquent, just, and mighty Death! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world ...
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Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs. We are, and must be, one and all, burdened with faults in this world: but the time will soon come when, I trust, we shall put them off in putting off our corruptible bodies; when debasement and sin will fall from us with this cumbrous frame of flesh, and only the spark of the spirit will remain, - the impalpable principle of light and thought, pure as when it left the Creator to inspire the creature: whence it came it will return; perhaps again to be communicated to some being higher than man - perhaps to pass through gradations of glory, from the pale human soul to brighten to the seraph! Surely it will never, on the contrary, be suffered to degenerate from man to fiend? No; I cannot believe that: I hold another creed: which no one ever taught me, and which I seldom mention; but in which I delight, and to which I cling: for it extends hope to all: it makes Eternity a rest - a mighty home, not a terror and an abyss. Besides, with this creed, I can so clearly distinguish between the criminal and his crime; I can so sincerely forgive the first while I abhor the last: with this creed revenge never worries my heart, degradation never too deeply disgusts me, injustice never crushes me too low: I live in calm, looking to the end.
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Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. 'Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!' cries she With silent lips. 'Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!'
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The ocean is a mighty harmonist.
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Society is now one polished horde, formed by two mighty tribes - Bores and Bored.
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Cold hearted orb that rules the night, Removes the colours from our sight Red is grey, and yellow white But we decide which is right. And which is an illusion.
Pinprick holes in a colourless sky, Let incipient figures of light pass by, The mighty light of ten thousand suns, Challanges infinity and is soon gone.
Night time, to some, a brief interlude, To others, the fear of solititude. Brave Helios, wake up your steeds, Bring us the warmth the countryside needs.
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Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for thou art not so, For, those, whom thou thinkst, thou dost overthrow, die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
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Firm, faithful, and devoted, full of energy and zeal, and truth, he labors for his race; he clears their painful way to improvement; he hews down like a giant the prejudices of creed and caste that encumber it. He may be stern; he may be exacting; he may be ambitious yet; but his is the sternness of the warrior Greatheart, who guards his pilgrim convoy from the onslaught of Apollyon. His is the exaction of the apostle, who speaks but for Christ, when he says, Whosoever will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me. His is the ambition of the high master-spirit, which aims to fill a place in the first rank of those who are redeemed from the earth -- who stand without fault before the throne of God, who share the last mighty victories of the Lamb, who are called, and chosen, and faithful.
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There is a great solitude about such a shore. The woods are never solitary- they are full of whispering, beckoning, friendly life. But the sea is a mighty soul, forever moaning of some great, unshareable sorrow, which shuts it up into itself for all eternity. We can never pierce its infinite mystery- we may only wander, awed and spell-bound, on the outer fringe of it. The woods call to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one only- a mighty voice that drowns our souls in its majestic music. The woods are human, but the sea is of the company of the archangels.
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Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for thou art not so, For, those, whom thou thinkst, thou dost overthrow, die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
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All men are by nature equal, made all of the same earth by one Workman; and however we deceive ourselves, as dear unto God is the poor peasant as the mighty prince.
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And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves 'It's pretty, b...
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The sea is mother-death and she is a mighty female, the one who wins, the one who sucks us all up.
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And I saw another mighty angel come down from heaven, clothed with a cloud: and a rainbow was upon his head, and his face was as it were the sun, and his feet as pillars of fire: / And he had in his hand a little book open: and he set his right foot upon the sea, and his left foot on the earth, / And cried with a loud voice, as when a lion roareth: and when he had cried, seven thunders uttered their voices.
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I hold a creed, which no one ever taught me, and which I seldon mention, but in which I delight, and to which I cling, for it extends hope to all; it makes eternity a rest - a mighty home - not a terror and an abyss. With this creed, I can so clearly distinguish between the criminal and his crime, I can so sincerly forgive the first while I abhor the last; with this creed, revenge never worries my heart, degredation never too deeply disgusts me, injustice bever crushes me too low; I live in calm, looking to the end.
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We must look at what immigration to America involves. To the new arrivals, the change is excruciating. Learning a new language and dealing with strange customs make the first years of life in the new land painful... The economic system of the United States is a mighty engine of persuasion. It motivates people to do what otherwise they never would in return for fulfilling their dreams. In the process, people learn that there is no sharp line between physical well-being and the higher purposes of life. The comfort of owning a house is at once meeting the obligation to care for one
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Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure... than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.
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Bear up, my child, bear up; Zeus who oversees and directs all things is still mighty in heaven.
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Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou thinkst, thou dost overthrow,
die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
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Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow, And soonest our best men with thee do go, Rest of their bones, and souls' delivery. Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well, And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then? One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.
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These struggling tides of life that seemIn wayward, aimless course to tend,Are eddies of the mighty streamThat rolls to its appointed end.
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....he thinks about his boyhood, and he mourns his vanished youth - Now, who would live his life again, or face it? Tell the truth. I am mighty glad my boyhood and my youth are far away- I am in the straight for Fifty
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The supreme, the merciless, the destroyer of opposition, the exalted King, the shepherd, the protector of the quarters of the world, the King the word of whose mouth destroys mountains and seas, who by his lordly attack has forced mighty and merciless Kings from the rising of the sun to the setting of the same to acknowledge one supremacy.
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And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves "It's pretty, b...
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We ought to reverence books; to look on them as useful and mighty things. If they are good and true, whether they are about religion, politics, farming, trade, law, or medicine, they are the message of Christ, the maker of all things -- the teacher of all truth.
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And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, till the Devil whispered behind the leaves It's pretty, but is it Art?
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Today's mighty oak is yesterday's nut that held it's ground.
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And mighty poets in their misery dead.
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