Weird, isn't it Somehow in the dead of winter when its 40 below, so cold your words just freeze in the air, you think you'll never hear a robin's song again or see a blossom on a cherry tree, when one day you wake up and bingo, light coming through the mini blinds is softened with a tick of rose and the cold morning air has lost its bite. It's spring once again, the streets are paved with mud and the hills are alive with the sound of mosquitos.
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Can you see the holiness in those things you take for granted--a paved road or a washing machine? If you concentrate on finding what is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul.
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No matter how full a reservoir of maxims one may possess, and no matter how good one's sentiments may be, if one have not taken advantage of every concrete opportunity to act, one's character may remain entirely unaffected for the better. With good intentions, hell proverbially is paved.
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Hell is paved with good samaritans.
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Hell is paved with infants skulls.
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Hell is paved with great granite blocks hewn from the hearts of those who said, I can do no other.
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The road to hell is paved with works-in-progress.
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The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.
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The street to obscurity is paved with athletes who can perform great feats before friendly crowds.
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Out in Hollywood, where the streets are paved with Goldwyn, the word
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Hell isn't merely paved with good intentions; it's walled and roofed with them. Yes, and furnished too.
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Hell is paved with good intentions.
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Hell is paved with good intentions, not with bad ones. All men mean well.
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The road to hell is paved with adverbs.
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The road of good intentions is paved with Hell.
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On the heights, all paths are paved with daggers.
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Hell is paved with good intentions
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