In the long years liker they must grow; The man be more of woman, she of man.
In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love
Into the jaws of death,/ Into the mouth of hell/ Rode the six hundred.
Is there any peace/ In ever climbing up the climbing wave?
It becomes no man to nurse despair, but, in the teeth of clenched antagonisms, to follow up the worthiest till he die
It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me
Jewels five-words long/ That on the stretched forefinger of all Time/ Sparkle for ever.
This website focuses on proverbs in the Swedish, Danish and Norwegian languages, and some parts including the links below have not been translated to English. They are mainly FAQs, various information and webpages for improving the collection.
This website focuses on proverbs in the Swedish, Danish and Norwegian languages, and some parts including the links below have not been translated to English. They are mainly FAQs, various information and webpages for improving the collection.