#Quote
How sweet the morning air is! See how that one little cloud floats like a pink feather from some floats flamingo. Now the red rim of the sun pushes itself over the London cloud-bank. It shines on a good many folk, but on none, I dare bet, who are on a stranger errand than you and I. How small we feel with our petty ambitions and strivings in the presence of the great elemental forces of Nature! ― Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes: The Complete Novels and Stories, Volume I
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Just like salt makes sweet taste sweeter, trials make happy feel happier. ― Richelle E. Goodrich
So I live among barbarous tribes, a stranger and exile for the love of God.
Love is a flower that grows in any soil, works its sweet miracles undaunted by autumn frost or winter snow, blooming fair and fragrant all the year, and blessing those who give and those who receive.
I let my head fall back, and I gazed into the Eternal Blue Sky. It was morning. Some of the sky was yellow, some the softest blue. One small cloud scuttled along. Strange how everything below can be such death and chaos and pain while above the sky is peace, sweet blue gentleness. I heard a shaman say once, the Ancestors want our souls to be like the blue sky. ― Shannon Hale, Book of a Thousand Days
A rose by any other name would smell as sweet - William Shakespeare
Good night, good night! parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night till it be morrow. ― William Shakespeare
God is mighty. God is caring. God is worthy of praise. God is loving. God is able. God is in control. Nothing takes God by surprise. Some sweet reminders to soak in before falling asleep tonight.
The sweet pleasure of your own joy and success is a cultivation of both the heart and mind. ― Bryant McGill
Take it all back. Life is boring, except for flowers, sunshine, your perfect legs. A glass of cold water when you are really thirsty. The way bodies fit together. Fresh and young and sweet. Coffee in the morning. These are just moments. I struggle with the in-betweens. I just want to never stop loving like there is nothing else to do, because what else is there to do?
When Emerson's library was burning at Concord, I went to him as he stood with the firelight on his strong, sweet face, and endeavored to express my sympathy for the loss of his most valued possessions, but he answered cheerily, 'Never mind, Louisa, see what a beautiful blaze they make! We will enjoy that now.' The lesson was one never forgotten and in the varied lessons that have come to me I have learned to look for something beautiful and bright.
