It is comforting when one has a sorrow to lie in the warmth of one's bed and there, abandoning all effort and all resistance, to bury even one's head under the cover, giving one's self up to it completely, moaning like branches in the autumn wind. But there is still a better bed, full of divine odors. It is our sweet, our profound, our impenetrable friendship.
Marcel ProustRelated topics
abandoning autumn bed bury cover divine effort friendship full giving head impenetrable lie moaning self sorrow sweet under warmth windRelated quotes
If we listened to our intellect we'd never have a love affair. We'd never have a friendship. We'd never go in business because we'd be cynical: «It's gonna go wrong.» Or «She's going to hurt me.» Or, «I've had a couple of bad love affairs, so therefore ...» Well, that's nonsense. You're going to miss life. You've got to jump off the cliff all the time and build your wings on the way down.
Ray Bradbury
All these soft kinds [of stone] have the advantage that they can be easily worked as soon as they have been taken from the quarries. Under cover, they play their part well; but in open and exposed situations the frost and rime make them crumble, and they go to pieces. On the seacoast, too, the salt eats away and dissolves them, nor can they stand great heat either.
Vitruvius
Philosophy treats of physics where a more careful knowledge is required because the problems which come under this head are numerous... So the reader of Ctesibius or Archimedes and the other writers of treatises of the same class will not be able to appreciate them unless he has been trained in these subjects by the philosophers.
Vitruvius
In this choice of inheritance we have given to our frame of polity the image of a relation in blood binding up the constitution of our country with our dearest domestic ties adopting our fundamental laws into the bosom of our family affections keeping inseparable and cherishing with the warmth of all their combined and mutually reflected charities, our state, our hearths, our sepulchres, and our altars.
Edmund Burke
Returning to town in the stage-coach, which was filled with Mr. Gilman's guests, we stopped for a minute or two at Kentish Town. A woman asked the coachman, 'Are you full inside' Upon which Lamb put his head through the window and said, 'I am quite full inside that last piece of pudding at Mr. Gilman's did the business for me.'
Charles Lamb