Rise, brothers, rise; the wakening skies pray to the morning light, The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has cried all night. Come, let us gather our nets from the shore and set our catamarans free, To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, for we are the kings of the sea! No longer delay, let us hasten away in the track of the sea gull's call, The sea is our mother, the cloud is our brother, the waves are our comrades all. What though we toss at the fall of the sun where the hand of the sea-god drives? He who holds the storm by the hair, will hide in his breast our lives. Sweet is the shade of the cocoanut glade, and the scent of the mango grove, And sweet are the sands at the full o' the moon with the sound of the voices we love; But sweeter, O brothers, the kiss of the spray and the dance of the wild foam's glee; Row, brothers, row to the edge of the verge, where the low sky mates with the sea.
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I spent millons of years in the world of inorganic things as a star, as a rock... Then I died and became a plant-- Forgetting my former existence because of its otherness Then I died and became an animal-- Forgetting my life as a plant except for inclinations in the season of spring and sweet herbs-- like the inclination of babes toward their mother's breast Then I died and became a human My intelligence ripened, awakening from greed and self-seeking to become wise and knowing I behold a hundred thousand intelligences most marvelous and remember my former states and inclinations And when I die again I will soar past the angels to places I cannot imagine Now, what have I ever lost by dying?
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I THINK that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the sweet earth's flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.
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Groan thru breast and neck, a great Oh! to earth heart
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His breast was deep and white, cold and caressable; his eyes were red glass, much to be desired.
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If wild my breast and sore my pride, I bask in dreams of suicide, If cool my heart and high my head I think "How lucky are the dead."
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Ambition is so powerful a passion in the human breast, that however high we reach we are never satisfied.
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Since love first made the breast an instrument
Of fierce lamenting, by its flame my heart
Was molten to a mirror, like a rose
I pluck my breast apart, that I may hang
This mirror in your sight
Gaze you therein.
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Holinesse on the head, Light and perfections on the breast,...
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Freedom! A wanton slut on a profligate's breast!
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You are aware of only one unrest;Oh, never to learn the other!Two souls, alas, are dwelling in my breast,And one is striving to forsake its brother.
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But curb thou the high spirit in thy breast, for gentle ways are best, and keep aloof from sharp contentions.
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America is sick. It's a country that worships basketball players and supermodels as deities and treats the poor as an enemy. You can see a human being shot to death on network television, but a human breast is too obscene to make the cut. We love war, we love our country, but we hate each other. Our entire society is structured around making money, often at the expense of another, and 'entertainment' assures us that it's all normal. Families are almost nonexistent, and the only safe neighborhoods are patrolled by armed guards with attack dogs. In short, we're heading for a huge Crash. Crash Site is attempting to accelerate the decline any way it can, and hopes to position itself somewhere in the middle of the New Republic once America is rebuilt. We're not conservatives, we're not liberals. We're Common Sense Hardliners.
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Therefore (for) whomsoever Allah intends that He would guide him aright, He expands his breast for Islam, and (for) whomsoever He intends that He should cause him to err, He makes his breast strait and narrow as though he were ascending upwards; thus does Allah lay uncleanness on those who do not believe.
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Breast cancer rates are lower in populations that consume plant-based diets.
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Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.N.B. This quote is commonly misquoted as savage beast.
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Music has charms to soothe the savage breast To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
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No one who has seen a baby sinking back satiated from the breast and falling asleep with flushed cheeks and a blissful smile can escape the reflection that this picture persists as a prototype of the expression of sexual satisfaction in later life.
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The swallow leaves her nest, The soul my weary breast;
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The in vitro cell line model was predictive for non-small cell lung cancer under the disease-oriented approach, for breast and ovarian cancers under the compound-oriented approach, and for all four tumor types together. The mouse allograft model was not predictive. The human xenograft model was not predictive for breast or colon cancers, but was predictive for non-small cell lung and ovarian cancers when panels of xenografts were used.
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My mother-in-law had a pain beneath her left breast. Turned out to be a trick knee.
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No far-fetched sigh shall ever wound my breast, Love from mine eye a tear shall never wring,...
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Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak. N.B.: This quote is commonly misquoted as savage beast.
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In the domain of Political Economy, free scientific inquiry meets not merely the same enemies as in all other domains. The peculiar nature of the material it deals with, summons as foes into the field of battle the most violent, mean and malignant passions of the human breast, the Furies of private interest.
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Let him go forth radiant, let life rise in his young breast,...
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The death clock is ticking slowly in our breast, and each drop of blood measures its time, and our life is a lingering fever.
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Well, after I had the heart attack, it was a very simple choice. What the doctor told me I did and I did it religiously. I ate nothing but lean turkey breast or chicken breast or a piece of fish that was very lean. I mean I stayed away from everything.
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Every author, however modest, keeps a most outrageous vanity chained like a madman in the padded cell of his breast.
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YER OF THE VIGILE DEL FUOCO Lord who light the skyes and fill up the abysses, burn in our breast the flame of sacrifice. Strenghten the spirit of service that burn in us, make safe our eye, steady our foot, to make effective the rescue that in your name we bringto brothers in danger. When the siren shrieks in the streets of the town, listen the throb of our earths devoted to renounce. When in competition with eagles we climb to You, support us Your sored hand. When the fire irresistible flares up, burns the evil nestled in the houses of men, not the life and affections of Your sons. Lord, we are the bearer of Your Cross, and risk is our daily bread. A day without risk is not lived, because for we believers death is life, is light: in the dread of collapses, in the fury of waters, in the hell of fires. Our life is the fire, our faith is God. For Saint Barbara martyr. AMEN
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'Thou shalt not kill' does not apply to murder of one's own kind only, but to all living beings; and this Commandment was inscribed in the human breast long before it was proclaimed from Sinai. It's clear that our Creator doesn't condone cruelty to animals in any way. 'Thou shalt not kill' could have been written 'Thou shalt not kill thy fellow man.' Instead, it was all inclusive, highlighting the sanctity of life no matter what the species.
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