Wreaths Quotes

On this page you will find all the quotes on the topic "Wreaths". There are currently 74 quotes in our collection about Wreaths. Discover the TOP 10 sayings about Wreaths!
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  • If there were nothing else of Abraham Lincoln for history to stamp him with, it is enough to send him with his wreath to the memory of all future time, that he endured that hour, that day, bitterer than gall - indeed a crucifixion day - that it did not conquer him - that he unflinchingly stemmed it, and resolved to lift himself and the Union out of it.

    Walt Whitman (1990). “Memoranda During the War”, p.82, Applewood Books
  • Whose heart doth hold the Christmas glow Hath little need of Mistletoe; Who bears a smiling grace of mien Need waste no time on wreaths of green; Whose lips have words of comfort spread Needs not the holly-berries red— His very presence scatters wide The spirit of the Christmastide.

    Christmas   Heart   Grace  
  • I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.

    Weather   Snow   Rose  
    Emily Bronte, “Fall, Leaves, Fall”
  • That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow But thinking of a wreath, . . . I like such ivy; bold to leap a height 'Twas strong to climb! as good to grow on graves As twist about a thyrsus; pretty too (And that's not ill) when twisted round a comb.

    Strong   Thinking   Ivy  
    Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1857). “Aurora Leigh”, p.40
  • A rose to the living is more Than sumptuous wreaths to the dead.

    Nixon Waterman (1919). “The Girl Wanted: A Book of Friendly Thoughts”
  • It is a gentle and affectionate thought, that in immeasurable height above us, at our first birth, the wreath of love was woven with sparkling stars for flowers.

    Stars   Flower   Woven  
    Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Henry Nelson Coleridge (1854). “The complete works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge: With an introductory essay upon his philosophical and theological opinions”, p.531
  • Yet, she said to herself, form the dawn of time odes have been sung to love; wreaths heaped and roses; and if you asked nine people out of ten they would say they wanted nothing but this--love; while the women, judging from her own experience, would all the time be feeling, This is not what we want; there is nothing more tedious, puerile, and inhumane than this; yet it is also beautiful and necessary.

    Virginia Woolf (2013). “Ao farol: To the lighthouse: Edição bilíngue português - inglês”, p.250, Editora Landmark LTDA
  • 'T is hers to pluck the amaranthine flower Of faith, and round the sufferer's temples bind Wreaths that endure affliction's heaviest shower, And do not shrink from sorrow's keenest wind.

    Faith   Flower   Wind  
    William Wordsworth (1851). “The Complete Poetical Works of William Wordsworth ...”, p.180
  • The wild-flower wreath of feeling, the sunbeam of the heart.

    Flower   Heart   Feelings  
    Fitz-Greene HALLECK (1847). “The Poetical Works of F. H. Now First Collected”, p.52
  • For the greater a man's works for the future, the less the present can comprehend them; the harder his fight, and the rarer success. If, however, once in centuries success does come to a man, perhaps in his latter days a faint beam of his coming glory may shine upon him. To be sure, these great men are only the Marathon runners of history; the laurel wreath of the present touches only the brow of the dying hero.

    Hero   Fighting   Men  
  • Two days ago we waded through the mud out to this grave beneath the pines at the foot of the hill to place a Christmas wreath on it, hoping he would look down from the Paradise of Ten Billion Trees and Unrationable Dog Biscuits and pity us.

    Dog   Two   Feet  
  • For having expressed an opinion, however far-fetched, we straightway become its slave, ready to die defending it, and even ready to believe it. And many continue to be martyrs to causes which have ceased to exist, their crowns rusting upon their heads as tin wreaths rust upon forgotten tombs.

    Believe   Tin   Crowns  
    Paul Eldridge (1960). “Seven against the night”
  • The Metropolitan Museum of Art some time ago held a display of contemporary art at which $52,000 was awarded to American sculptors, painters, and artists in allied fields. The award for the best painting went to the canvas of an Illinois artist. It was described as "a macabre, detailed work showing a closed door bearing a funeral wreath." Equally striking was the work's title: "That which I should have done, I did not do."

    Time   Art   Work  
  • But memory, after a time, dispenses its own emphasis, making a feuilleton of what we once thought most ponderable, laying its wreath on what we never thought to recall.

    Hortense Calisher (2013). “In the Absence of Angels: Stories”, p.88, Open Road Media
  • The individual man is transitory, but the pulse of life and of growth goes on after he is gone, buried under a wreath of magnolia leaves.

    Men   Growth   Wreaths  
    Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (1996). “Cross Creek”, p.379, Simon and Schuster
  • He was the owner of the moonlight on the ground, he fell in love with the most beautiful of the trees, he made wreaths of leaves and strung them around his neck.

  • Heaped on the floor were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, great joints of meat, sucking pigs, long wreaths of sausages, mince-pies, plum-puddings, bartrels of oysters, re-hot chestnuts, cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch that made the chamber dim with their delicious steam.

    Oysters   Turkeys   Games  
  • I think, whatever mortals crave, With impotent endeavor, A wreath--a rank--a throne--a grave-- The world goes round forever; I think that life is not too long, And therefore I determine, That many people read a song, Who will not read a sermon.

    Song   Thinking   Long  
    Winthrop Mackworth Praed (1854). “The Poetical Works of Winthrop Mackworth Praed”, p.264
  • Your honors here may serve you for a time, as it were for an hour, but they will be of no use to you beyond this world. Nobody will have heard a word of your honors in the other life. Your glory, your shame, your ambitions, and all the treasures for which you push hard and sacrifice much will be like wreaths of smoke. For these things, which you mostly seek, and for which you spend your life only tarry with you while you are on this side of the flood.

  • When the warrior returns, from the battle afar,To the home and the country he nobly defended,O! warm be the welcome to gladden his ear,And loud be the joy that his perils are ended:In the full tide of song let his fame roll along,To the feast-flowing board let us gratefully throng,Where, mixed with the olive, the laurel shall wave,And form a bright wreath for the brows of the brave.

    Country   Song   Home  
    Francis Scott Key (1857). “Poems of the late Francis S. Key, esq”, p.34
  • Who ever comes to shroud me, do not harm Nor question much That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm; The mystery, the sign you must not touch, For 'tis my outward soul, Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone, Will leave this to control, And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution.

    Hair   Heaven   Soul  
    'Songs and Sonnets' 'The Funeral'
  • When we pulled out into the winter night and the real snow, our snow, began to stretch out beside us and twinkle against the windows, and the dim lights of small Wisconsin stations moved by, a sharp wild brace came suddenly into the air. That's my middle-west - not the wheat or the prairies or the lost Swede towns, but the thrilling returning trains of my youth and the street lamps and sleigh bells in the frosty dark and the shadows of holly wreaths thrown by lighted windows on the snow.

    Real   Dark   Winter  
    F. Scott Fitzgerald (2013). “The Great Gatsby: The Authentic Edition from Fitzgerald’s Original Publisher: The authentic edition from Fitzgerald’s original publisher”, p.138, Simon and Schuster
  • I look up at the ceiling, tracing the foliage of the wreath. Today it makes me think of a hat, the large-brimmed hats women used to wear at some period during the old days: hats like enormous halos, festooned with fruit and flowers, and the feathers of exotic birds; hats like an idea of paradise, floating just above the head, a thought solidified.

    Flower   Thinking   Ideas  
    Margaret Atwood (1986). “The Handmaid's Tale”, p.128, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
  • We placed the wreaths upon the splendid granite sarcophagus, and at its feet, and felt that only the earthly robe we loved so much was there. The pure, tender, loving spirit which loved us so tenderly, is above us - loving us, praying for us, and free from all suffering and woe - yes, that is a comfort, and that first birthday in another world must have been a far brighter one than any in this poor world below!

    Love   Feet   Suffering  
  • In every cradle decked with rosy wreath Lurk germs of death.

    Death   Wreaths   Germs  
    Victor Hugo (1897). “Selected Poems from the Edition Definitive”
  • Oh! like a wreath, let Christmas mirth To-day encircle all the earth, And bind the nations with the love That Jesus brought from heaven above.

    Jesus   Heaven   Wreaths  
    Maud Lindsay (2010). “Mother Stories”, p.134, Heart of Dixie Publishing
  • I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath; I am the memory of a moment of happiness; I am the last gift of the living to the dead; I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.

    Memories   Joy   Sorrow  
    Khalil Gibran (2015). “A Tear And A Smile - Parables, Stories, and Poems of Khalil Gibran”, p.49, Editora Dracaena
  • When Poetry thus keeps its place as the handmaiden of piety, it shall attain not a poor perishable wreath, but a crown that fadeth not away.

    Crowns   Wreaths   Poor  
    John Wesley (1797). “A Collection of Hymns, for the use of the people called Methodists ... A new edition”, p.4
  • The wreath of cigarette smoke which curls about the head of the growing lad holds his brain in an iron grip which prevents it from growing and his mind from developing just as surely as the iron shoe does the foot of the Chinese girl.

  • Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trails its wreath; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played, Their thoughts I cannot measure; But the least motion which they made, It seemed a thrill of pleasure. The budding twigs spread out their fan, To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can That there was pleasure there. If this belief from heaven be sent, If such be Nature's holy plan, Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?

    Spring   Flower   Men  
    William Wordsworth, “Written In Early Spring”
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