Play | Topics | Authors | Random

Danh ngôn của William Cullen Bryant (Sứ mệnh: 1)

The groves were God's first temples.
And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.
Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness - a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster - children into strength and athletic proportion.
Eloquence is the poetry of prose.
Poetry is that art which selects and arranges the symbols of thought in such a manner as to excite the imagination the most powerfully and delightfully.
The little windflower, whose just opened eye is blue as the spring heaven it gazes at.
There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye; There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.
Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger.
Weep not that the world changes - did it keep a stable, changeless state, it were cause indeed to weep.
Where hast thou wandered, gentle gale, to find the perfumes thou dost bring?
The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep tonight.
Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.
A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.
The Parisian has his amusements as regularly as his meals, the theatre, music, the dance, a walk in the Tuilleries, a refection in the cafe, to which ladies resort as commonly as the other sex. Perpetual business, perpetual labor, is a thing of which he seems to have no idea.