FridayJan 23, 2026
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
How cruelly sweet are the echoes that start When memory plays an old tune on the heart!
The hills have been high for mans mounting, The woods have been dense for his axe, The stars have been thick for his counting, The sands have been wide for his tracks. The sea has been deep for his diving, The poles have been broad for his sway, But bravely hes proved in his striving, That 'Where theres a will theres a way.'
I love it, I love it, and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm-chair?
The coward wretch whose hand and heart Can bear to torture aught below, Is ever first to quail and start From the slightest pain or equal foe.
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