Samuel Johnsonġ4 If the graves of the thousands of victims who have fallen in the terrible wars of the two races had been placed in line the philanthropist might travel from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from the Lakes to the Gulf, and be constantly in sight of green mounds. William Morrisġ3 Sir, when you have seen one green field, you have seen all green fields. Forget days past, heart broken, put all memory by! No grief on the green hillside, no pity in the sky, Joy that may not be spoken fills mead and flower and tree. No ripple on the river, no stir in field or fold, All gleams but naught doth glisten, but the far-off unseen sea. Lucy Maud Montgomeryġ2 Speak not, move not, but listen, the sky is full of gold. love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath. Thomas Huxleyġ1 Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one鈥檚 life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down perhaps it crept to one鈥檚 side like an old friend through quiet ways perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps. For my part, I consider that tobacco, in moderation, is a sweetener and equalizer of the temper. You may poison yourself by drinking too much green tea, and kill yourself by eating too many beefsteaks. There is no more harm in a pipe than in a cup of tea. I could have almost lent my support to any institution that had for its object the putting of tobacco smokers to death.I now feel that smoking in moderation is a comfortable and laudable practice, and is productive of good. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it. ![]() Henry Wadsworth LongfellowĨ Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. ![]() William Butler YeatsĦ Does it seem all but incredible to you that intelligence should travel for two thousand miles, along those slender copper lines, far down in the all but fathomless Atlantic never before penetrated 鈥?save when some foundering vessel has plunged with her hapless company to the eternal silence and darkness of the abyss? Does it seem 鈥?but a miracle 鈥?that the thoughts of living men 鈥?should burn over the cold, green bones of men and women, whose hearts, once as warm as ours, burst as the eternal gulfs closed and roared over them centuries ago? Edward Everettħ Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood as the Emperors signed their names in green ink when under age, but when of age, in purple. Other places the skeletons of the cypress-trees that went down when the earth sank, still stand upright so that if the sun shines from the right quarter, and the water is less muddy than common, a man, peering face downward into its depths, sees, or thinks he sees, down below him the bare top-limbs upstretching like drowned men's fingers, all coated with the mud of years and bandaged with pennons of the green lake slime. John James Ingallsģ Where should the scholar live? In solitude, or in society? in the green stillness of the country, where he can hear the heart of Nature beat, or in the dark, gray town where he can hear and feel the throbbing heart of man? Henry Wadsworth LongfellowĤ Reelfoot is, and has always been, a lake of mystery.In places it is bottomless. ![]() Forests decay, harvests perish, flowers vanish, but grass is immortal. Streets abandoned by traffic become grass-grown, like rural lanes and are obliterated. Fields trampled with battle, saturated with blood, torn with the ruts of cannon, grow green again with grass and carnage is forgotten. ![]() Edgar Allan PoeĢ Grass is the forgiveness of nature-her constant benediction. The golden and silver fish haunted the river. And life arose in our paths for the tall flamingo hitherto unseen, with all gay glowing birds, flaunted his scarlet plumage before us. The tints of the green carpet deepened and when, one by one, the white daisies shrank away, there sprang up, in place of them, ten by ten of the ruby-red asphodel. Strange brilliant flowers, star-shaped, burst out upon the trees where no flowers had been before.
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