She had seen her son for the first time, in this place, when he was a child of eight or nine. She remembered that day. He ran along the path near the cottage to which she had been assigned, calling to his friends, laughing, his unkempt hair bright in the sunlight. “Gabe!” she heard a boy call; but she would have known him without hearing it. It was the same smile she remembered, the same silvery laugh. She had moved forward in that moment, intending to rush to him, to greet and embrace him. Perhaps she would make the silly face, the one with which they had once mimicked each other. But when she started eagerly toward him, she forgot her own weakness; her dragging foot caught on a stone and she stumbled clumsily. Quickly she righted herself, but in that moment she saw him glance toward her, then look away in disinterest. As if looking through his eyes, she perceived her own withered skin, her sparse gray hair, the awkward gait with which she moved. She stayed silent, and turned away, thinking.
We know that the wind listeth to blow where there is a vacuum. If you find a tremendous rush of wind, you know that somewhere there is an empty space. I am perfectly sure about this fact: if we could expel all pride, vanity, self-righteousness, self-seeking, desire for applause, honor, and promotion--if by some divine power we should be utterly emptied of all that, the Spirit would come as a rushing mighty wind to fill us.--_A. J. Gordon._
How come everyone's going so slow if it's called rush hour?
Somebody once said that in looking for people to hire, you look for three qualities: integrity, intelligence, and energy. And if they don't have the first, the other two will kill you. You think about it; it's true. If you hire somebody without the first, you really want them to be dumb and lazy.
For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Sunlight dances through the leaves Soft winds stir the sighing trees Lying in the warm grass Feel the sun upon your face Elven songs and endless nights Sweet wine and soft relaxing lights Time will never touch you Here in this enchanted place You feel there's something calling you You're wanting to return To where the misty mountains rise and friendly fires burn A place you can escape the world Where the dark lord cannot go Peace of mind and sanctuary by loud water's flow I've traveled now for many miles It feels so good to see the smiles of Friends who never left your mind When you were far away From the golden light of coming dawn Till the twilight where the sun is gone We treasure every season And every passing day We feel the coming of a new day Darkness gives way to light a new way Stop here for a while until the world, The world calls you away Yet you know I've had the feeling Standing with my senses reeling This is the place to grow old 'til I reach my final day.
It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew - and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents - that there was all the difference in the world.
Dum fata fugimus, fata stulti incurrimus=--While we flee from our fate, we like fools rush on it.
For emulation hath a thousand sons, / That one by one pursue; if you give way, / Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, / Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by, And leave you hindmost.
Or, the ethnologist may turn to the study of the practical life of men; and relying upon the inherent conservatism and small inventiveness of untutored mankind, he may hope to discover in manners and customs, or in weapons, dwellings, and other handiwork, a clue to the origin of the resemblances and differences of nations. Or, he may resort to that kind of evidence which is yielded by History proper, and consists of the beliefs of men concerning past events, embodied in traditional, or in written, testimony. Or, when that thread breaks, Archaeology, which is the interpretation of the unrecorded remains of man's works, belonging to the epoch since the world has reached its present condition, may still guide him. And, when even the dim light of archaeology fades, there yet remains Palaeontology which, in these latter years, has brought to daylight once more the exuvia of ancient populations, whose world was not our world, who have been buried in river beds immemorially dry, or carried by the rush of waters into caves, inaccessible to inundation since the dawn of tradition.
For fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies; / All quit their sphere and rush into the skies.
The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.
Man but a rush against Othello's breast, And he retires.
He knows what he'll find if he digs deeper. there's no rush to unpack my insides. he understands there is nothing special about emptiness, nothing interesting about depression.
Vehemens in utramque partem, aut largitate nimia aut parsimonia=--Ready to rush to either extreme of lavish liberality or niggardly parsimony.
It is far easier to make a great rush than to plod steadily on through a long life.
The boisterous sea of liberty is never without a wave. [Letter to Richard Rush, L&B.15.283, Oct. 20, 1820.]
Ingenious philosophers tell you, perhaps, that the great work of the steam-engine is to create leisure for mankind. Do not believe them, it only creates a vacuum for eager thought to rush in.--_George Eliot._
One of the things that surprised Lillian the most about lying was the rush.
It is unacceptable to sit in your room alone and scream at your life, but it is perfectly acceptable (albeit not exactly normal) to do it with a good friend on the highway, hearing your voice rise to the rush of the window wind and then hearing it be taken away, left behind in your wake.
The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone.--_George Eliot._
He rush'd into the field, and foremost fighting fell.
In furias ignemque ruunt; amor omnibus idem=--They rush into the flames of passion; love is the same in all.
Sollicitant alii remis freta c?ca, ruuntque / In ferrum: penetrant aulas, et limina regum=--Some disturb unknown seas with oars, some rush upon the sword; some push their way into courts and the portals of kings.
The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out: At one stride comes the dark; With far-heard whisper o'er the sea, Off shot the spectre-bark.
Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread.
Property is surely a right of mankind as real as liberty. Perhaps, at first, prejudice, habit, shame or fear, principle or religion, would restrain the poor from attacking the rich, and the idle from usurping on the industrious; but the time would not be long before courage and enterprise would come, and pretexts be invented by degrees, to countenance the majority in dividing all the property among them, or at least, in sharing it equally with its present possessors. Debts would be abolished first; taxes laid heavy on the rich, and not at all on others; and at last a downright equal division of every thing be demanded, and voted. What would be the consequence of this? The idle, the vicious, the intemperate, would rush into the utmost extravagance of debauchery, sell and spend all their share, and then demand a new division of those who purchased from them. The moment the idea is admitted into society, that property is not as sacred as the laws of God, and that there is not a force of law and public justice to protect it, anarchy and tyranny commence .… [ The Works of John Adams , “A Defense of the Constitutions of Government in the United States of America,” by Charles Francis Adams, Vol. IX, Freeport, NY: Books for Libraries Press, pp. 376-377.]
Moriamur, et in media arma ruamus=--Let us die, and rush into the thick of the fight.
I wonder whether the subtle measuring of forces will ever come to measuring the force there would be in one beautiful woman whose mind was as noble as her face was beautiful--who made a man's passion for her rush in one current with all the great aims of his life.--_George Eliot._
I've never been lonely. I've been in a room -- I've felt suicidal. I've been depressed. I've felt awful -- awful beyond all -- but I never felt that one other person could enter that room and cure what was bothering me...or that any number of people could enter that room. In other words, loneliness is something I've never been bothered with because I've always had this terrible itch for solitude. It's being at a party, or at a stadium full of people cheering for something, that I might feel loneliness. I'll quote Ibsen, "The strongest men are the most alone." I've never thought, "Well, some beautiful blonde will come in here and give me a fuck-job, rub my balls, and I'll feel good." No, that won't help. You know the typical crowd, "Wow, it's Friday night, what are you going to do? Just sit there?" Well, yeah. Because there's nothing out there. It's stupidity. Stupid people mingling with stupid people. Let them stupidify themselves. I've never been bothered with the need to rush out into the night. I hid in bars, because I didn't want to hide in factories. That's all. Sorry for all the millions, but I've never been lonely. I like myself. I'm the best form of entertainment I have. Let's drink more wine!
It is, of course, another thing altogether if a man will rush unsent into any field of work, or any post of difficulty or danger. In such a case we may assuredly look for a thorough breakdown, sooner or later. But when God calls a man to a certain position, He will endow him with the needed grace to occupy it.
"Fools rush where Angels fear to tread!" Angels and Fools have equal claim To do what Nature bids them do, sans hope of praise, sans fear of blame!
The rivers of Babylon rush and fall and sweep away.
Literature is humanity talking to itself.
In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies; All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies. Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes: Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell, Aspiring to be angels, men rebel.
he felt a fresh rush of horror.
Suppose a nation, rich and poor, high and low, ten millions in number, all assembled together; not more than one or two millions will have lands, houses, or any personal property; if we take into the account the women and children, or even if we leave them out of the question, a great majority of every nation is wholly destitute of property, except a small quantity of clothes, and a few trifles of other movables. Would Mr. Nedham be responsible that, if all were to be decided by a vote of the majority, the eight or nine millions who have no property, would not think of usurping over the rights of the one or two millions who have? Property is surely a right of mankind as really as liberty. Perhaps, at first, prejudice, habit, shame or fear, principle or religion, would restrain the poor from attacking the rich, and the idle from usurping on the industrious; but the time would not be long before courage and enterprise would come, and pretexts be invented by degrees, to countenance the majority in dividing all the property among them, or at least, in sharing it equally with its present possessors. Debts would be abolished first; taxes laid heavy on the rich, and not at all on the others; and at last a downright equal division of every thing be demanded, and voted. What would be the consequence of this? The idle, the vicious, the intemperate, would rush into the utmost extravagance of debauchery, sell and spend all their share, and then demand a new division of those who purchased from them. The moment the idea is admitted into society, that property is not as sacred as the laws of God, and that there is not a force of law and public justice to protect it, anarchy and tyranny commence. If “Thou shalt not covet,” and “Thou shalt not steal,” were not commandments of Heaven, they must be made inviolable precepts in every society, before it can be civilized or made free. [ Defence of the Constitutions of Government of the United States , 1787; The Works of John Adams , edited by Charles Francis Adams. 10 vols. Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 1850-56.]
There are cloudy moments when one asks himself if men do not deserve all the disasters into which they rush! No — I recover myself — they do not deserve them. But we, instead of saying "I wish" must say "I will." And what we will, we must will to build it, with order, with method, beginning at the beginning, when once we have been as far as that beginning. We must not only open our eyes, but our arms, our wings.
The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
Davis' Law of Traffic Density: The density of rush-hour traffic is directly proportional to 1.5 times the amount of extra time you allow to arrive on time.
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<witten> no, voodoo rush is bad voodoo :)
For fools rush in where angels fear to tread. -- Alexander Pope
Ever wonder why fire engines are red? Because newspapers are read too. Two and Two is four. Four and four is eight. Eight and four is twelve. There are twelve inches in a ruler. Queen Mary was a ruler. Queen Mary was a ship. Ships sail the sea. There are fishes in the sea. Fishes have fins. The Finns fought the Russians. Russians are red. Fire engines are always rush'n. Therefore fire engines are red.
Swerve me? The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run. Over unsounded gorges, through the rifled hearts of mountains, under torrents' beds, unerringly I rush! -- Captain Ahab, "Moby Dick"
"I don't understand," said the scientist, "why you lemmings all rush down to the sea and drown yourselves." "How curious," said the lemming. "The one thing I don't understand is why you human beings don't." -- James Thurber
How come everyone's going so slow if it's called rush hour?
XXXI: The optimum committee has no members. XXXII: Hiring consultants to conduct studies can be an excellent means of turning problems into gold -- your problems into their gold. XXXIII: Fools rush in where incumbents fear to tread. XXXIV: The process of competitively selecting contractors to perform work is based on a system of rewards and penalties, all distributed randomly. XXXV: The weaker the data available upon which to base one's conclusion, the greater the precision which should be quoted in order to give the data authenticity. -- Norman Augustine
Fools rush in -- and get the best seats in the house.
Saturday night in Toledo Ohio, Is like being nowhere at all, All through the day how the hours rush by, You sit in the park and you watch the grass die. -- John Denver, "Saturday Night in Toledo Ohio"
Dear Emily: Today I posted an article and forgot to include my signature. What should I do? -- Forgetful Dear Forgetful: Rush to your terminal right away and post an article that says, "Oops, I forgot to post my signature with that last article. Here it is." Since most people will have forgotten your earlier article, (particularly since it dared to be so boring as to not have a nice, juicy signature) this will remind them of it. Besides, people care much more about the signature anyway. -- Emily Postnews Answers Your Questions on Netiquette
Nor Menelaus, Atreus' valiant son, Knew not how Menoetiades had fallen By Trojan hands in battle; forth he rush'd All bright in burnish'd armor through his van, And as some heifer with maternal fears Now first acquainted, compasses around Her young one murmuring, with tender moan, So moved the hero of the amber locks Around Patroclus, before whom his spear Advancing and broad shield, he death denounced On all opposers; neither stood the son Spear-famed of Panthus inattentive long To slain Patroclus, but approach'd the dead, And warlike Menelaus thus bespake.
He said, and with his arms leap'd to the ground. On the other side, Patroclus at that sight Sprang from his chariot. As two vultures clash Bow-beak'd, crook-talon'd, on some lofty rock Clamoring both, so they together rush'd With clamors loud; whom when the son observed Of wily Saturn, with compassion moved His sister and his spouse he thus bespake.
Then, began one of those extraordinary scenes with which the populace sometimes gratified their fickleness, or their better impulses towards generosity and mercy, or which they regarded as some set-off against their swollen account of cruel rage. No man can decide now to which of these motives such extraordinary scenes were referable; it is probable, to a blending of all the three, with the second predominating. No sooner was the acquittal pronounced, than tears were shed as freely as blood at another time, and such fraternal embraces were bestowed upon the prisoner by as many of both sexes as could rush at him, that after his long and unwholesome confinement he was in danger of fainting from exhaustion; none the less because he knew very well, that the very same people, carried by another current, would have rushed at him with the very same intensity, to rend him to pieces and strew him over the streets.
I turned my head aside, for, with a rush and a sweep, like the old marsh winds coming up from the sea, a feeling like that which had subdued me on the morning when I left the forge, when the mists were solemnly rising, and when I laid my hand upon the village finger-post, smote upon my heart again. There was silence between us for a little while.
And then he gives me a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.
The Hero spake, and from his chariot cast Thymbræus to the ground pierced through the pap, While by Ulysses' hand his charioteer Godlike Molion, fell. The warfare thus Of both for ever closed, them there they left, And plunging deep into the warrior-throng Troubled the multitude. As when two boars Turn desperate on the close-pursuing hounds, So they, returning on the host of Troy, Slew on all sides, and overtoil'd with flight From Hector's arm, the Greeks meantime respired. Two warriors, next, their chariot and themselves They took, plebeians brave, sons of the seer Percosian Merops in prophetic skill Surpassing all; he both his sons forbad The mortal field, but disobedient they Still sought it, for their destiny prevail'd. Spear-practised Diomede of life deprived Both these, and stripp'd them of their glorious arms, While by Ulysses' hand Hippodamus Died and Hypeirochus. And now the son Of Saturn, looking down from Ida, poised The doubtful war, and mutual deaths they dealt. Tydides plunged his spear into the groin Of the illustrious son of Pæon, bold Agastrophus. No steeds at his command Had he, infatuate! but his charioteer His steeds detain'd remote, while through the van Himself on foot rush'd madly till he fell. But Hector through the ranks darting his eye Perceived, and with ear-piercing cries advanced Against them, follow'd by the host of Troy. The son of Tydeus, shuddering, his approach Discern'd, and instant to Ulysses spake.
Great happiness makes one feel so often that it cannot last, and that we will have some day to give up all to which one's heart clings so. A few years sooner or later, but the time will come, and come quicker than one expects. Therefore I believe it is right to accustom oneself to the thought that we can none of us escape death, and that all our happiness here is only lent us. But at the same time we can thankfully enjoy all that God gives us, ... and there is still so much left us, so much to be happy and thankful for, and yet here too the thought always rushes across one's brightest hours: it cannot last, it is only for a few years and then it must be given up. Let us work as long as it is day, let us try to do our duty, and be very thankful for God's blessings which have been showered upon us so richly--but let us learn also always to look beyond, and learn to be ready to give up everything,--and yet say, Thy Will be done.
Laertes' noble son, for wiles renown'd! Why seek ye, thus precipitate, your ships? Intend ye flight? And is it thus at last, That the Achaians on the billows borne, Shall seek again their country, leaving here, To be the vaunt of Ilium and her King, Helen of Argos, in whose cause the Greeks Have numerous perish'd from their home remote? Delay not. Rush into the throng; by force Detain them of thy soothing speech, ere yet All launch their oary barks into the flood.
"Pay strict heed! One on the side of the barrier, the other at the corner of the Rue du Petit-Banquier. Don't lose sight for a moment of the door of this house, and the moment you see anything, rush here on the instant! as hard as you can go! You have a key to get in."
And now behind the ships (all that updrawn Above the shore, stood foremost of the fleet) The Greeks retired; in rush'd a flood of foes; Then, through necessity, the ships in front Abandoning, amid the tents they stood Compact, not disarray'd, for shame and fear Fast held them, and vociferating each Aloud, call'd ceaseless on the rest to stand. But earnest more than all, guardian of all, Gerenian Nestor in their parents' name Implored them, falling at the knees of each.
Hardly knowing what she did, she picked up a little bit of stick, and held it out to the puppy; whereupon the puppy jumped into the air off all its feet at once, with a yelp of delight, and rushed at the stick, and made believe to worry it; then Alice dodged behind a great thistle, to keep herself from being run over; and the moment she appeared on the other side, the puppy made another rush at the stick, and tumbled head over heels in its hurry to get hold of it; then Alice, thinking it was very like having a game of play with a cart-horse, and expecting every moment to be trampled under its feet, ran round the thistle again; then the puppy began a series of short charges at the stick, running a very little way forwards each time and a long way back, and barking hoarsely all the while, till at last it sat down a good way off, panting, with its tongue hanging out of its mouth, and its great eyes half shut.
It was very near, but not yet in sight; when, in addition to the tramp, tramp, I heard a rush under the hedge, and close down by the hazel stems glided a great dog, whose black and white colour made him a distinct object against the trees. It was exactly one form of Bessie's Gytrash--a lion-like creature with long hair and a huge head: it passed me, however, quietly enough; not staying to look up, with strange pretercanine eyes, in my face, as I half expected it would. The horse followed,--a tall steed, and on its back a rider. The man, the human being, broke the spell at once. Nothing ever rode the Gytrash: it was always alone; and goblins, to my notions, though they might tenant the dumb carcasses of beasts, could scarce covet shelter in the commonplace human form. No Gytrash was this,--only a traveller taking the short cut to Millcote. He passed, and I went on; a few steps, and I turned: a sliding sound and an exclamation of "What the deuce is to do now?" and a clattering tumble, arrested my attention. Man and horse were down; they had slipped on the sheet of ice which glazed the causeway. The dog came bounding back, and seeing his master in a predicament, and hearing the horse groan, barked till the evening hills echoed the sound, which was deep in proportion to his magnitude. He snuffed round the prostrate group, and then he ran up to me; it was all he could do,--there was no other help at hand to summon. I obeyed him, and walked down to the traveller, by this time struggling himself free of his steed. His efforts were so vigorous, I thought he could not be much hurt; but I asked him the question--