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Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness - a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster children into strength and athletic proportion.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
Difficulty
Roughly
Greatness
Foster
Rocks
Brethren
Strength
Athletic
Children
Harsh
Nurse
Proportion
Adversity

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The groves were God's first temples.
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And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at night.
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Yet will that beauteous image make The dreary sea less drear And thy remembered smile will wake The hope that tramples fear
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And at my silent window-sill The jessamine peeps in.
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Truth crushed to the earth will rise again!
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The February sunshine steeps your boughs and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
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Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.
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Sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
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Music is not merely a study, it is an entertainment wherever there is music there is a throng of listeners.
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Follow thou thy choice.
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Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
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Ah! never shall the land forget.
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It is a sultry day the sun has drunk The dew that lay upon the morning grass There is no rustling in the lofty elm That canopies my dwelling, and its shade Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint And interrupted murmur of the bee, Settling on the sick flowers, And then again Instantly on the wing.
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Difficulty is the nurse of greatness.
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Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, And colored with the heaven's own blue.
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War, like all other situations of danger and of change, calls forth the exertion of admirable intellectual qualities and great virtues, and it is only by dwelling on these, and keeping out of sight the sufferings and sorrows, and all the crimes and evils that follow in its train, that it has its glory in the eyes of men.
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Showers and sunshine bring, Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth To put their foliage out, the woods are slack, And one by one the singing-birds come back.
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The linden, in the fervors of July, Hums with a louder concert. When the wind Sweeps the broad forest in its summer prime, As when some master-hand exulting sweeps The keys of some great organ, ye give forth The music of the woodland depths, a hymn Of gladness and of thanks.
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Christ taught an astonishing thing about physical death: not merely that it is an experience robbed of its terror but that as an experience it does not exist at all. To sleep in Christ, like one that wraps the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
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When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multitude Of golden chalices to humming-birds And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.
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