The little windflower, whose just opened eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.

Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase are fruits of innocence and blessedness.

All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom.

There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye; There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.

Poetry is that art which selects and arranges the symbols of thought in such a manner as to excite the imagination the most powerfully and delightfully.

Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness - a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster - children into strength and athletic proportion.

Eloquence is the poetry of prose.

Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.

Weep not that the world changes - did it keep a stable, changeless state, it were cause indeed to weep.

And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.

To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.

Winning isn't everything, but it beats anything in second place.

The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.

Where hast thou wandered. gentle gale, to find the perfumes thou dost bring?

The groves were God's first temples.

The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep tonight.

A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.

Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.

A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.

Thine eyes are springs in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen. Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook.

Loveliest of lovely things are they on earth that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour is prized beyond the sculptured flower.

Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger.

The little windflower, whose just opened eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.

Where hast thou wandered, gentle gale, to find the perfumes thou dost bring?

Difficulty is the nurse of greatness.

Here the free spirit of mankind at length Throws its last fetters off and who shall place A limit to the giants unchained strength Or curb his swiftness in the forward race

Do not the bright June roses blow To meet thy kiss at morning hours?

The stormy March has come at last, With winds and clouds and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast That through the snowy valley flies.

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.

I hear the howl of the wind that brings the long drear storm on its heavy wings.

Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green. Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.

With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.

Happiness is the harvest of a quiet eye.

It is reasonable to have perfection in our eye that we may always advance toward it, though we know it can never be reached.

To judge between good or bad, between successful and unsuccessful would take the eye of a God.

The plate at each point only sends back to the eye the simple colour imprinted. The other colours are destroyed by interference. The eye thus perceives at each point the constituent colour of the image.

One gets into a strange psychological, almost hypnotic, state of mind while on the firing line which probably prevents the mind's eye from observing and noticing things in a normal way.

Don't forget that the only two things people read in a story are the first and last sentences. Give them blood in the eye on the first one.

More firm and sure the hand of courage strikes, when it obeys the watchful eye of caution.

A cynic is a man who looks at the world with a monocle in his mind's eye.

The eye with which I see God is the same eye with which God sees me.

If your sister is in a tearing hurry to go out and cannot catch your eye, she's wearing your best sweater.

Baseball is a game where a curve is an optical illusion, a screwball can be a pitch or a person, stealing is legal and you can spit anywhere you like except in the umpire's eye or on the ball.

Only a kind person is able to judge another justly and to make allowances for his weaknesses. A kind eye, while recognizing defects, sees beyond them.

I tell you the truth, it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.

Nothing contributes so much to tranquilize the mind as a steady purpose - a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye.

I don't see any kind of mirror of power, male power, that is, as a form of liberation. I don't believe in an eye for an eye. I don't believe this is truly freedom.

Follow the wisdom of the great actor, James Cagney, you hit your mark, you look the other guy in the eye, and you tell the truth.

Thou has a thousand eyes and yet not one eye; Thou host a thousand forms and yet not one form.