Adieu, Francoise, my trusted wife; Without you I'd have had a lonely life. You cheated lots of times but then, I forgave you in the end Though your lover was my friend.Adieu, Francoise, it's hard to die When all the birds are singing in the sky. Now that spring is in the air With your lovers ev'rywhere, Just be careful; I'll be there.
Jacques BrelRelated topics
adieu air die end friend hard lover now singing sky spring times wife lotsRelated quotes
At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide.
Abraham Lincoln
To find the universal elements enough; to find the air and the water exhilarating; to be refreshed by a morning walk or an evening saunter... to be thrilled by the stars at night; to be elated over a bird's nest or a wildflower in spring - these are some of the rewards of the simple life.
John Burroughs
I can remember how when I was young I believed death to be a phenomenon of the body now I know it to be merely a function of the mind -- and that of the minds who suffer the bereavement. The nihilists say it is the end the fundamentalists, the beginning when in reality it is no more than a single tenant or family moving out of a tenement or a town.
William Faulkner
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
Love hinders death. Love is life. All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love. Everything is, everything exists, only because I love. Everything is united by it alone. Love is God, and to die means that I, a particle of love, shall return to the general and eternal source.
Leo Tolstoy