A woman's happiness is in throwing everything away to live for love.
Immodest words admit of no defence, For want of decency is want of sense.
Choose an author as you would a friend.
The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound, Shall thro' the rending tombs rebound, And wake the nations under ground.
The men, who labour and digest things most, Will be much apter to despond than boast; For if your author be profoundly good, 'Twill cost you dear before he's understood.
Abstruse and mystic thoughts you must express With painful care, but seeming easiness; For truth shines brightest thro' the plainest dress.
Tis I that call, remember Milo's end, Wedged in that timber which he strove to rend.
The resting place of the mind is the heart.
We're at peak oil, peak water, peak resources, and so either we figure it out and let science lead or we head down a very bad, dark trail to where a lot of people aren't going to make it.
I feel like a real cowboy! Yippi Ki Yay!
Any coward can sit in his home and criticize a pilot for flying into a mountain in a fog. But I would rather, by far, die on a mountainside than in bed. What kind of man would live where there is no daring? And is life so dear that we should blame men for dying in adventure? Is there a better way to die?