When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh! the doxy, over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year; For… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
But the fact being once established, that the press is impotent when it abandons itself to falsehood, I leave to others to… — Thomas Jefferson Copy Share Image
Tris," Tobias says, crouching next to me. His face is pale, almost yellow. There is too much I want to say. The… — Veronica Roth Copy Share Image
The future of English fiction may rest with this Unknown Public - a reading public of three millions which lies right out… — Wilkie Collins Copy Share Image
How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored. — Jean Ingelow Copy Share Image
How pale is the art of sorcerers, witches, and conjurors when compared with that of the government's Treasury Department! — Ludwig von Mises Copy Share Image
I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity. Clouds… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Seest thou how pale the sated guest rises from supper, where the appetite is puzzled with varieties? The body, too, burdened with… — Horace Copy Share Image
For me, science is already fantastical enough. Unlocking the secrets of nature with fundamental physics or cosmology or astrobiology leads you into… — Paul Davies Copy Share Image
Nature lies, disheveled, pale, With her feverish lips apart,- Day by day the pulses fail, Nearer to her bounding heart. — Goodale Sisters Copy Share Image
I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried. For a year I have called every black tree Marya… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
See the child. He is pale and thin, he wears a thin and ragged linen shirt. He stokes the scullery fire. — Cormac McCarthy Copy Share Image
We are the women of daylight; of clocks and steel foundries, of drugstores and streetlights, of superhighways that slice our days in… — Paula Gunn Allen Copy Share Image
As the hours crept by, the afternoon sunlight bleached all the books on the shelves to pale, gilded versions of themselves and… — Maggie Stiefvater Copy Share Image
My Tris should look pale and small--she is pale and small, after all--but instead the room is full of her. — Veronica Roth Copy Share Image
Winter Song The browns, the olives, and the yellows died, And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed Each dawn and… — Wilfred Owen Copy Share Image
The pale and quiet moon Makes her calm forehead bare, And the last fragments of the storm, Like shattered rigging from a… — James Russell Lowell Copy Share Image
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus With tigery stripes, and a face on it Round as the… — Sylvia Plath Copy Share Image
Paco Fuentes, " Mrs. Peterson says, pointing to the table behind Mary. The handsome young man with pale blue eyes like his… — Simone Elkeles Copy Share Image
I tremble with pleasure when I think that on the very day of my leaving prison both the laburnum and the lilac… — Oscar Wilde Copy Share Image
I was always pale. And I'm glad that I can be open about my paleness now. — Evan Rachel Wood Copy Share Image
The old-fashioned idea that the simple piling up of experiences, one on top of another, can make you an artist, is, of… — Helen Hayes Copy Share Image
