Arithmetic is where the answer is right and everything is nice and you can look out of the window and see the blue sky -- or the answer is wrong and you have to start over and try again and see how it comes out this time.
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Fishing gives you a sense of where you fit in the sceme of things - Your place in the universe...I, mean, here I am, one small guy with a fishing pole on this vast beach and out there in the blue expanse of ocean are these hundreds of millions of fish...laughing at me.
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Know'st thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom, Where the gold orange glows in the deep thicket's gloom, Where a wind ever soft from the blue heaven blows, And the groves are of laurel and myrtle and rose
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The summer day is closed - the sun is set: Well they have done their office, those bright hours, The latest of whose train goes softly out In the red west. The green blade of the ground Has risen, and herds have cropped it; the young twig Has spread its plaited tissues to the sun; Flowers of the garden and the waste have blown And withered; seeds have fallen upon the soil, From bursting cells, and in their graves await Their resurrection. Insects from the pools Have filled the air awhile with humming wings, That now are still for ever; painted moths Have wandered the blue sky, and died again
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And the Blue Angels are coming back to scare the local population. I remember seeing old Vietnamese women ducking under the benches in Washington Square; they thought they were back in the war.
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What shall we do with country quiet now? A motor drones insanely in the blue Like a bad bird in a dream.
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'Things as they are Are changed upon the blue guitar.'
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I am a feather on the bright sky I am the blue horse that runs in the plain I am the fish that rolls, shining, in the water
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Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
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Cherish your visions and your dreams as they are the children of your soul; the blue prints of your ultimate achievements
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Mozart has the classic purity of light and the blue ocean; Beethoven the romantic grandeur which belongs to the storms of air and sea, and while the soul of Mozart seems to dwell on the ethereal peaks of Olympus, that of Beethoven climbs shuddering the storm-beaten sides of a Sinai. Blessed be they both! Each represents a moment of the ideal life, each does us good. Our love is due to both.
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Sorrows and disasters are like the clouds that flit across the sky; they cannot injure the blue depths of space. Your duty is just to strive on from this very moment. Do not vacillate or postpone. Who knows when death knocks ? May be, he may knock this very night, this very moment; therefore, do not delay. Do you postpone for tomorrow the dinner of this day ! Feed the spirit as scrupulously as you now feed the body.
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You take the blue pill and you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill, you stay in wonderland and see how deep the rabbit hole goes.
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I can tell you that it takes great strength to surrender. You have to know that you are not going to collapse. Instead, you are going to open to a power that you don't even know, and it is going to come to meet you. In the process of healing, this is one of the huge things that I have discovered. People recognized the energy coming to meet them. When they opened to another energy, a love, a divine love, came through to meet them. That is what is known as grace. We all sing about amazing grace. It is a gift. I think that it comes through the work that we do. For some people, it can come out of the blue, but I know that in my own situation, the grace came through incredible vigilance.
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We worship an awesome God in the Blue States, and we don't like federal agents poking around our libraries in the Red States. We coach Little League in the Blue States and have gay friends in the Red States.
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I don't see how an epigram, being a bolt from the blue, with no introduction or cue, ever gets itself writ
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But my deepest and most secret love belongs to the fair-haired and the blue-eyed, the bright children of life, the happy, the charming and the...
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Suppose you're thinking about a plate of shrimp. Suddenly somebody'll say like plate, or shrimp, or plate of shrimp--out of the blue, no explanation. No point of looking for one either. It's all part of the cosmic unconsciousness.
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The hermit doesn't sleep at night, in love with the blue of the vacant moon. The cool of the breeze that rustles the trees rustles him too.
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Cherish your visions and your dreams as they are the children of your soul the blue prints of your ultimate accomplishments.
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"Things as they are Are changed upon the blue guitar."
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