Quotes 7521 till 7540 of 8333.
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What a man calls his ''conscience'' is merely the mental action that follows a sentimental reaction after too much wine or love.
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What a man takes in by contemplation, that he pours out in love.
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What a mother sings to the cradle goes all the way down to the coffin.
― Henry Ward Beecher
American Congregationalist clergyman, social reformer, and speaker (1813 - 1887) -
What a profound significance small things assume when the woman we love conceals them from us.
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What all men are really after is some form, or perhaps only some formula, of peace.
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What allows us, as human beings, to psychologically survive life on earth, with all of its pain, drama, and challenges, is a sense of purpose and meaning
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What an antithetical mind! - tenderness, roughness - delicacy, coarseness - sentiment, sensuality - soaring and groveling, dirt and deity - all mixed up in that one compound of inspired clay!
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What are all political and social institutions, but always a religion, which in realizing itself, becomes incarnate in the world?
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What are we hoping to get out of it, what's it all in aid of - is it really just for the sake of a gloved hand waving at you from a golden coach?
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What between the duties expected of one during one's lifetime, and the duties exacted from one after one's death, land has ceased to be either a profit or a pleasure. It gives one position, and prevents one from keeping it up. That's all that can be said about land.
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What breadth, what beauty and power of human nature and development there must be in a woman to get over all the palisades, all the fences, within which she is held captive!
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What breaks capitalism, all that will ever break capitalism, is capitalists. The faster they run the more strain on their heart.
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What can be more foolish than to think that all this rare fabric of heaven and earth could come by chance, when all the skill of art is not able to make an oyster!
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What can be more foolish than to think that all this rare fabric of heaven and earth could come by chance, when all the skill of science is not able to make an oyster.
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What culture lacks is the taste for anonymous, innumerable germination. Culture is smitten with counting and measuring; it feels out of place and uncomfortable with the innumerable; its efforts tend, on the contrary, to limit the numbers in all domains; it tries to count on its fingers.
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What do I have
to help me, without spell or prayer,
endure this hour, endless, heartless, anonymous,
the death of love?Source: Over, from Rapture (2004) -
What do I love about acting? I love traveling, meeting new people, exploring and just doing what I love.
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What do we call love, hate, charity, revenge, humanity, forgiveness? Different results of the master impulse, the necessity of securing one's self-approval.
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What does love look like? It has the hands to help others. It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy. It has eyes to see misery and want. It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men. That is what love looks like.
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What does the truth matter? Haven't we mothers all given our sons a taste for lies, lies which from the cradle upwards lull them, reassure them, send them to sleep: lies as soft and warm as a breast!
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