Related Quotes
peace sad
Peter Alter I think it's a pretty sad day for democracy. It's a pretty sad day for the peace process.
peace process start timetable
Silvan Shalom It could happen, ... But we need to see a timetable ? how we will start the peace process and how we will end.
peace
Oprah Winfrey There is no feud. It's only peace and love.
peace unto
Rumer Godden It is My own peace I give unto you." Not, notice, the world's peace.
peace fear war
William Westmoreland The military don't start wars. Politicians start wars.
peace war age
William Westmoreland We'll blast them back into the stone ages!
peace war believe
William F. Buckley, Jr. France believes in armed intervention by America only when the intervention is in France to rescue France from occupation by other powers.
peace art reading
Richard M. Nixon My telephone calls and meetings and decisions were now parts of a prescribed ritual aimed at making peace with the past; his calls, his meetings and his decisions were already the ones that would shape America's future." (On transfer of power to Gerald R Ford)
pain torment
Adrienne Barbeau Her pain was very apparent, the torment she was in.
pain love-is fire
Richard Barnfield Love is a fiend, a fire, a heaven, a hell Where pleasure, pain, and sad repentance dwell
pain thinking gains
Richard Baxter What we most value, we shall think no pains too great to gain.
pain night mad
Rebecca West Only part of us is sane: only part of us loves pleasure and the longer day of happiness, wants to live to our nineties and die in peace, in a house that we built, that shall shelter those who come after us. The other half of us is nearly mad. It prefers the disagreeable to the agreeable, loves pain and its darker night despair, and wants to die in a catastrophe that will set back life to its beginnings and leave nothing of our house save its blackened foundations.
pain tolerance endurance
Ryan Lochte Pain, tolerance, endurance-when it comes down to that point, there's always something left. You just have to find it.
pain smoking want
Russell Hoban What a weird thing smoking is and I can't stop it. I feel cosy, have a sense of well-being when I'm smoking, poisoning myself, killing myself slowly. Not so slowly maybe. I have all kinds of pains I don't want to know about and I know that's what they're from. But when I don't smoke I scarcely feel as if I'm living. I don't feel as if I'm living unless I'm killing myself.
pain stress home
Romeo Dallaire The night I flew out from Rwanda, I landed in Nairobi, and I was on my way back home, and my left side started to paralyze and remained paralyzed with pain, and the stress and so on began to appear physically.
pain moving talking
Umberto Eco When all the archetypes burst out shamelessly, we plumb the depths of Homeric profundity. Two clichés make us laugh but a hundred clichés moves us because we sense dimly that the clichés are talking among themselves, celebrating a reunion. . . . Just as the extreme of pain meets sensual pleasure, and the extreme of perversion borders on mystical energy, so too the extreme of banality allows us to catch a glimpse of the Sublime.
pain animal heaven
Umberto Eco There is only one thing that arouses animals more than pleasure, and that is pain. Under torture you are as if under the dominion of those grasses that produce visions. Everything you have heard told, everything you have read returns to your mind, as if you were being transported, not toward heaven, but toward hell. Under torture you say not only what the inquisitor wants, but also what you imagine might please him, because a bond (this, truly, diabolical) is established between you and him.
spring farewell bird
William Wordsworth Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my casement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. * * * * * Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my requiem sing, Nor fail to be the harbinger Of everlasting spring.
spring passion blood
William Ellery Channing It feeds and grows on the blood which it sheds. The passions , from which it springs, gain strength and fury from indulgence.
spring reading writing
Sarah Vowell If I'm still wistful about On the Road, I look on the rest of the Kerouac oeuvre--the poems, the poems!--in horror. Read Satori in Paris lately? But if I had never read Jack Kerouac's horrendous poems, I never would have had the guts to write horrendous poems myself. I never would have signed up for Mrs. Safford's poetry class the spring of junior year, which led me to poetry readings, which introduced me to bad red wine, and after that it's all just one big blurry condemned path to journalism and San Francisco.
spring fall eye
Sara Teasdale Stephen kissed me in the spring, Robin in the fall, But Colin only looked at me And never kissed at all. Stephen’s kiss was lost in jest, Robin’s lost in play, But the kiss in Colin’s eyes Haunts me night and day.
spring war rain
Sara Teasdale There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pool singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white; Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself when she woke at dawn Would scarcely know that we were gone.
spring moving heart
Sara Teasdale The spring is fresh and fearless And every leaf is new, The world is brimmed with moonlight, The lilac brimmed with dew. Here in the moving shadows I catch my breath and sing - My heart is fresh and fearless And over-brimmed with spring.
spring april
Sara Teasdale I could not be so sure of Spring / Save that it sings in me.
spring flower writing
Samuel Johnson When a poet mentions the spring, we know that the zephyrs are about to whisper, that the groves are to recover their verdure, the linnets to warble forth their notes of love, and the flocks and herds to frisk over vales painted with flowers: yet, who is there so insensible of the beauties of nature, so little delighted with the renovation of the world, as not to feel his heart bound at the mention of the spring?
spring winter play
Samuel Johnson It is a hopeless endeavour to unite the contrarieties of spring and winter; it is unjust to claim the privileges of age, and retain the play-things of childhood.