Then once more comes deep grief to their hearts, when he comrades sat in their places and no lion's hide was there to see, but the empty seat upon that mighty thwart. Loyal Aeacides weeps, the heart of Philoctetes is sad, brother Pollux with his dear Castor makes lament. The ship is flying fast, and still all cry "Hercules," all cry "Hylas," but the names are lost in the middle of the sea.
Gaius Valerius FlaccusRelated topics
brother castor comes cry dear deep empty flying grief heart hide lost middle mighty once sad sea seat see ship thwart hearts namesRelated quotes
The public has lost the habit of movie-going because the cinema no longer possesses the charm, the hypnotic charisma, the authority it once commanded. The image it once held for us all - that of a dream we dreamt with our eyes open - has disappeared. Is it still possible that one thousand people might group together in the dark and experience the dream that a single individual has directed.
Federico Fellini
We grow great by dreams. All big men are dreamers. They see things in the soft haze of a spring day or in the red fire of a long winter's evening. Some of us let these dreams die, but others nourish and protect them nurse them through bad days till they bring them to the sunshine and light which comes always to those who hope that their dreams will come true.
Woodrow Wilson
Many flatter themselves and consider themselves to be good, humble, and meek, but they will discover the contrary under temptation. Do not not become despondent in temptations, then, but give all the more thanks to God that He thus brings you to what is hidden in your heart - the knowledge of yourself - and wishes you to be corrected and be saved.
Tikhon of Zadonsk
She talks about how Brahms baby sat them while her mother, Clara, was out earning a living, concertizing all over Europe. Brahms continued in their lives until his death. She also talks about her loving relationship with her mother; her usual sibling like relationships with the other Schumann children; and how she would get mad at Brahms when he would make her mother sad, even cry, but none of them could be mad at Brahms for very long.
Harry Markowitz
I arrived at length at Cairo, mother of cities and seat of Pharaoh the tyrant, mistress of broad regions and fruitful lands, boundless in multitude of buildings, peerless in beauty and splendour, the meeting-place of comer and goer, the halting-place of feeble and mighty, whose throngs surge as the waves of the sea, and can scarce be contained in her for all her size and capacity.
Ibn Battuta