It would be fun,” Skulduggery nodded. ”I like kicking Wreath in the face. I haven't had a chance to do it nearly… — Derek Landy Copy Share Image
What is it to grow old? Is it to lose the glory of the form, The lustre of the eye? Is it… — Matthew Arnold Copy Share Image
Daughter of heaven and earth, coy Spring, With sudden passion languishing, Teaching barren moors to smile, Painting pictures mile on mile, Holds… — Ralph Waldo Emerson Copy Share Image
The individual man is transitory, but the pulse of life and of growth goes on after he is gone, buried under a… — Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Copy Share Image
Alice! A childish story take, And with a gentle hand, Lay it where Childhood's dreams are twined In Memory's mystic band, Like… — Lewis Carroll Copy Share Image
A crown Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns, Bring dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights To him who wears… — John Milton Copy Share Image
O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life… — Langston Hughes Copy Share Image
“Looking towards the open window, I saw light wreaths from Joe's pipe floating there, and I fancied it was like a blessing… — Charles Dickens Copy Share Image
Two days ago we waded through the mud out to this grave beneath the pines at the foot of the hill to… — Eugene O'Neill Copy Share Image
Forgive me if, in friendship’s way, I offer thee a wreath of May… [N]ourished by the dews of heaven… So I have… — John Clare Copy Share Image
If there were nothing else of Abraham Lincoln for history to stamp him with, it is enough to send him with his… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
The Metropolitan Museum of Art some time ago held a display of contemporary art at which $52,000 was awarded to American sculptors,… — James Keller Copy Share Image
Do not be lazy. Run each day's race with all your might, so that at the end you will receive the victory… — Basilea Schlink Copy Share Image
At 50, I thought proudly: Here we are, half century! Being 60 was fairly frightening. You want to know how I spent… — Bette Davis Copy Share Image
Whose heart doth hold the Christmas glow Hath little need of Mistletoe; Who bears a smiling grace of mien Need waste no… — John Kendrick Bangs Copy Share Image
In tangled wreath, in clustered gleaming stars, In floating, curling sprays, The golden flower comes shining though the woods These February days;… — Constance Fenimore Woolson Copy Share Image
The brief span of our poor unhappy life to its final hour Is hastening on; and while we drink and call for… — Juvenal Copy Share Image
The truth is that wreaths have never really been part of my creative life. I like them and want them and know… — Monty Don Copy Share Image
But memory, after a time, dispenses its own emphasis, making a feuilleton of what we once thought most ponderable, laying its wreath… — Hortense Calisher Copy Share Image
No wreaths please - especially no hothouse flowers. Some common memento is better, something he prized and is known by: his old… — William Carlos Williams Copy Share Image
When I was a child, my December weekends were spent making cards, decorating the tree, hanging the wreath and preparing brandy butter… — Pippa Middleton Copy Share Image
I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath; I am the memory of a moment of happiness; I am the… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
“No matter how grouchy you're feeling, you'll find the smile more or less healing. It grows in a wreath all around the… — Anthony Euwer Copy Share Image
And sometimes when I am weary, When the path is thorny and Wild, I'll look back to the Eyes in the twilight,… — Voltairine de Cleyre Copy Share Image
“Yet, she said to herself, from the dawn of time odes have been sung to love; wreaths heaped and roses; and if… — Virginia Woolf Copy Share Image
I look up at the ceiling, tracing the foliage of the wreath. Today it makes me think of a hat, the large-brimmed… — Margaret Atwood Copy Share Image
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green, Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes, Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths… — D. H. Lawrence Copy Share Image
“People marvel that we’re not out in the streets, decking the monstrous, khaki tanks with roses and jasmine. They wonder why we… — Riverbend Copy Share Image
Heaped on the floor were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings,… — Charles Dickens Copy Share Image
When the warrior returns, from the battle afar,To the home and the country he nobly defended,O! warm be the welcome to gladden… — Francis Scott Key Copy Share Image
Yet reason frowns in war's unequal game, Where wasted nations raise a single name; And mortgag'd states their grandsire's wreaths regret, From… — Samuel Johnson Copy Share Image
That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow But thinking of a wreath, . . . I like such ivy; bold to… — Elizabeth Barrett Browning Copy Share Image
For having expressed an opinion, however far-fetched, we straightway become its slave, ready to die defending it, and even ready to believe… — Paul Eldridge Copy Share Image
To all new truths, or renovation of old truths, it must be as in the ark between the destroyed and the about-to-be… — Samuel Taylor Coleridge Copy Share Image
The wreath of cigarette smoke which curls about the head of the growing lad holds his brain in an iron grip which… — Hudson Maxim Copy Share Image
Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, But which will bloom… — Emily Dickinson Copy Share Image
We placed the wreaths upon the splendid granite sarcophagus, and at its feet, and felt that only the earthly robe we loved… — Queen Victoria Copy Share Image
Who ever comes to shroud me, do not harm Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm; The… — John Donne Copy Share Image
The riches of heaven, the honor which cometh from God only, and the pleasures at His right hand, the absence of all… — Thomas Hartwell Horne Copy Share Image
And I ran after that voice through the streets so as not to lose sight of the splendid wreath of bodies gliding… — Milan Kundera Copy Share Image