| Quotes |
Topic |
| Accident | Our wanton accidents take root, and grow To vaunt themselves God's laws. |
| Blood | Young blood must have its course, lad, and every dog its day. |
| Common Sense | He was one of those men who possess almost every gift, except the gift of the power to use them. |
| Enthusiasm | We act as though comfort and luxury were the chief requirements of life, when all that we need to make us really happy is something to be enthusiastic about. |
| Faith | And we shall be made truly wise if we be content; content, too, not only with what we can understand, but content with what we do not understand--the habit of mind which theologians call--and rightly--faith in God. |
| Fishermen | Three fishers went sailing away to the west, Away to the west as the sun went down; Each thought on the woman who loved him the best, And the children stood watching them out of the town. |
| Heroes | Still the race of hero spirits pass the lamp from hand to hand. |
| Inspirational | We act as though comfort and luxury were the chief requirements of life, when all that we need to make us happy is something to be enthusiastic about. |
| May | Oh! that we two were Maying Down the stream of the soft spring breeze; Like children with violets playing, In the shade of the whispering trees. |
| Past | Some say that the age of chivalry is past, that the spirit of romance is dead. The age of chivalry is never past so long as there is a wrong left unredressed on earth. |
| Possession | Possession means to sit astride the world Instead of having it astride of you. |
| Rivers | "O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands o' Dee;" The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam And all alone went she. |
| Science | For science is . . . like virtue, its own exceeding great reward. |
| Tides | The western tide crept up along the sand, And o'er and o'er the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see The rolling mist came down and hid the land: And never home came she. |
| Winter | Every winter, When the great sun has turned his face away, The earth goes down into a vale of grief, And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables, Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay-- Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses. |
| Work | Tho' we earn our bread, Tom, By the dirty pen, What we can we will be, Honest Englishmen. Do the work that's nearest Though it's dull at whiles, Helping, when we meet them, Lame dogs over stiles. |
| Work | For men must work and women must weep, And the sooner it's over the sooner to sleep, And good-bye to the bar and its moaning. |
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