Quotes 3161 till 3180 of 12035.
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How can the moribund old man reason back to himself the romance, the mystery, the imminence of great things with which our old earth tingled for him in the days when he was young and well?
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How can they expect a harvest of thought who have not had the seed time of character.
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How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them? Every part of the earth is sacred to my people.
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How charming is divine philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, but musical as is Apollo's lute, and a perpetual feast of nectared sweets, where no crude surfeit reigns.
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How come life is so important in the nine months before birth, but then we sort of forget about the importance, we're not worried about whether that baby lives in poverty once he or she is born.
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How could you be a Great Man if history brought you no Great Events, or brought you to them at the wrong time, too young, too old?
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How dare anyone, parent, schoolteacher, or merely literary critic, tell me not to act colored.
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How do I explain Neil Young? Great question! I explain Neil Young as, I would kill to see his acoustic shows.
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How do you win? By getting average players to play good and good players to play great. That's how you win.
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How ever a brilliant an action, it should not be viewed as great unless it is the result of a great motive.
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How great are the dangers I face to win a good name in Athens.
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How I wish we lived in a time when laws were not necessary to safeguard us from discrimination.
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How incessant and great are the ills with which a prolonged old age is replete.
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How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something, but to be someone.
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How much time he saves who does not look to see what his neighbor says or does or thinks.
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How odd it is that we so often weep for each other's distresses, when we shed not a tear for our own!
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How often things occur by mere chance which we dared not even hope for.
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How simple the writing of literature would be if it were only necessary to write in another way what has been well written. It is because we have had such great writers in the past that a writer is driven far out past where he can go, out to where no one can help him.
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