I think of music a lot when I paint. The theme of it to a degree is music. So instead of literally putting in music or literally putting in a musical instrument, I use only a hint of the instrument, but the brocaded pattern is like a line of Bach because of its order and the leaves going up are like passages from Vivaldi, and the emphasis on drapery is where the sound comes.
Work, look for peace and calm in work: You will find it nowhere else. Pleasures flit by -- they are only for yourself; work leaves a mark of long-lasting joy, work is for others.
We feel the breath of the wind upon our cheeks, we see the dust and the leaves blowing before the wind, we see the vessels at sea driven swiftly towards their ports; but the wind itself remains invisible. Just so with the Spirit; we feel His breath upon our souls, we see the mighty things He does, but Himself we do not see. He is invisible, but He is real and perceptible.
I'd like to think I'm an actor who leaves things at work.
But one, the lofty follower of the Sun, Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves Drooping all night; and, when he warm returns, Points her enamoured bosom to his ray.
That is the best baptism that leaves the man cleanest inside.
We enjoy some gratification when our good friends die; for though their death leaves us in sorrow, we have the consolatory assurance that they are beyond the ills by which in this life even the best of people are broken down or corrupted.
Such a man as instinctively feeds on pure ambrosia and leaves alone the indigestible in things.
If church prelates, past or present, had even an inkling of physiology they'd realize that what they term this inner ugliness creates and nourishes the hearing ear, the seeing eye, the active mind, and energetic body of man and woman, in the same way that dirt and dung at the roots give the plant its delicate leaves and the full-blown rose.
Look at this vigorous plant that lifts its head from the meadow, See how its leaves are turned to the north, as true as the magnet; This is the compass-flower, that the finger of God has planted Here in the houseless wild, to direct the traveller's journey. Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert, Such in the soul of man is faith.
When love takes you by the hand and leaves you better, that is home. That's the place to stake your claim and build your life.
Kings are falling like leaves this autumn.
I try to stay in a constant state of confusion just because of the expression it leaves on my face.
Sorrow has its reward. It never leaves us where it found us.
How can the mind be so imperfect?" she says with a smile. I look at my hands. Bathed in the moonlight, they seem like statues, proportioned to no purpose. "It may well be imperfect," I say, "but it leaves traces. And we can follow those traces, like footsteps in the snow. " "Where do the lead?" "To oneself," I answer. "That's where the mind is. Without the mind, nothing leads anywhere. " I look up. The winter moon is brilliant, over the Town, above the Wall. "Not one thing is your fault," I comfort her.
When the going gets tough, everyone leaves.
I think the pursuit of happiness is the pursuit of reality because illusion never leaves us ultimately happy.
True friends don't say good-bye, they just take extended leaves of absences from each other.
An intense copper calm, like a universal yellow lotus, was more and more unfolding its noiseless measureless leaves upon the sea.
In the end, the sign of Aretha Franklin's artistry is that she always leaves her mark - first, on the music, then on us.