It is important to remember that at first blush, going sane feels just like going crazy.
We have forgotten how to blush
Jesus is humble, and His servants must not be proud; but Jesus was never mean or cowardly, nor must His servants be. There was no braver man than Christ. He could stoop to save a soul, but He would stoop to nothing by which His character might be compromised or truth and righteousness insulted. To preach the Gospel boldly is to deliver it as such a message ought to be delivered. Blush to preach of a dying Saviour? Apologize for talking about the Son of God condescending to be made man that He might redeem us from all iniquity? Never!
But 'neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.
Innocence is not accustomed to blush.
Calling it a simple schoolgirl crush was like saying a Rolls-Royce was a vehicle with four wheels, something like a hay-wagon. She did not giggle wildly and blush when she saw him, nor did she chalk his name on trees or write it on the walls of the Kissing Bridge. She simply lived with his face in her heart all the time, a kind of sweet, hurtful ache. She would have died for him.
A curious thing about written literature: It is about four thousand years old, but we have no way of knowing whether four thousand years constitutes senility or the maiden blush of youth.
When you get up, the night and day is a contradiction. But you get up at 4 a. m. — that first blush of blue is where the night and day are trying to find harmony with each other.
We never forget those who make us blush.
I doubt not then but innocence shall makeFalse accusation blush, and tyrannyTremble at patience.
When guilt is in its blush of infancy, it trembles in a tenderness of shame; and the first eye that pierces through the veil that hides the secret brings it to the face
Spring is the fresh green of young corn and the pink blush of blossoms. Autumn contrasts the yellowed foilage with violet hues. Winter is the white of snow against its black forms. . . Summer is the contrast of blues and the golden bronze of the corn.
[Lily] "Petunia's hair is too curly to braid," She said conversationally. Oliver wasn't sure why, but that was what finally made him blush.
Blush at your faults.
He grinned. “Busted. I’m a monster. Jev is my deceptively harmless — and shockingly handsome — alter ego. ” “And I’m on top of it,” she announced with witty triumph. “Is that a Freudian slip?” His bluntness caught her off guard. A self-conscious blush rose in her face.
Pure friendship's well-feigned blush.
After the first blush of sin comes its indifference.
A letter does not blush.
Men blush less for their crimes than for their weaknesses and vanity.
The virtuous to those mansions go Where pleasures unembitter'd flow, Where, leading up a jocund band, Vigor and Youth dance hand in hand, Whilst Zephyr, with harmonious gales, Pipes softest music through the vales, And Spring and Flora, gaily crown'd, With velvet carpet spread the ground; With livelier blush where roses bloom, And every shrub expires perfume.
