As unto the bow the cord is, / So unto the man is woman; / Though she bends him, she obeys him, / Though she draws him, yet she follows; / Useless each without the other! |
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining; Behind the clouds the sun is shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. |
Being all fashioned of the self-same dust, let us be merciful as well as just |
Beside the ungathered rice he lay. / His sickle in his hand. |
Between the dark and the daylight, / When the night is beginning to lower, / Comes a pause in the day's occupations, / That is known as the Children's Hour. |
Beware the pine-tree's withered branch! / Beware the awful avalanche! |
Build me straight, O worthy Master! / Staunch and strong, a goodly vessel, / That shall laugh at all disaster, / And with wave and whirlwind wrestle! |
Build today, then strong and sure, With a firm and ample base; And ascending and secure. Shall tomorrow find its place. |
But the father answered never a word. / A frozen corpse was he. |
By too much sitting still, the body becomes unhealthy; and soon the mind |
Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author. |
Deeds are better things than words are, actions mightier than boastings |
Doubtless criticism was originally benignant, pointing out the beauties of a work rather that its defects. The passions of men have made it malignant, as a bad heart of Procreates turned the bed, the symbol of repose, into an instrument of torture. |
Each morning see some task begun, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done |
Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose |