7 ordspråk av Julia Ward Howe
Julia Ward Howe
Disarm, disarm. The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence indicate possession.
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Every life has its actual blanks, which the ideal must fill up, or which else remain bare and profitless forever
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I am confirmed in my division of human energies. Ambitious people climb, but faithful people build.
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In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, / With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me: / As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, / While God is marching on.
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Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored.
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Oh! be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!/ Our God is marching on.
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The strokes of the pen need deliberation as much as the sword needs swiftness.
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