Dew Quotes - Page 3

The first rule of snooping is to come at it sideways.

Art at its most significant is a Distant Early Warning System that can always be relied on to tell the old culture what is beginning to happen to it.

The dew waits for no voice to call it to the sun.

A great acacia, with its slender trunk And overpoise of multitudinous leaves. (In which a hundred fields might spill their dew And intense verdure, yet find room enough) Stood reconciling all the place with green.

I'm Irish. We think sideways

I go through about two Fender mediums a night because I don't pick straight down; it's sort of sideways, and it shaves them off.

White dew- one drop on each thorn

Say she rail; why, I'll tell her plain She sings as sweetly as a nightingale. Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear As morning roses newly wash'd with dew. Say she be mute and will not speak a word; Then I'll commend her volubility, and say she uttereth piercing eloquence.

And in the morn and liquid dew of youth, Contagious blastments are are most imminent.

Stories help me. To live. To work. To find the meaning hidden in every dream, ever leaf, every drop of dew.

Beginnings are sudden, but also insidious. They creep up on you sideways, they keep to the shadows, they lurk unrecognized. Then, later, they spring.

Delicious tears! The heart's own dew.

The timely dew of sleep.

What precious drops are those, Which silently each other's track pursue, Bright as young diamonds in their faint dew?

We blossom under praise like flowers in sun and dew; we open, we reach, we grow.

The dew-bead Gem of earth and sky begotten.

What is the scent of water?" "Renewal. The goodness of God coming down like dew.

See how the Orient dew, Shed from the bosom of the morn Into the blowing roses, Yet careless of its mansion new; For the clear region where 'twas born Round in its self encloses: And in its little globes extent, Frames as it can its native element.

And every dew-drop paints a bow.

In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew?

Eastlake High makes Buffy's hellmouth look like a crack in the sidewalk.

Dewdrops, Nature's tears, which she Sheds in her own breast for the fair which die. The sun insists on gladness; but at night, When he is gone, poor Nature loves to weep.

We should nourish our souls on the dew of Poesy, and manure them as well.

On the Death of his Child Dew Evaporates And all our world is dew...so dear, So fresh, so fleeting

The brilliant passes, like the dew at morn; The true endures, for ages yet unborn.