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All T Quotes

“To your request of my opinion of the manner in which a newspaper should be conducted, so as to be most useful, I should answer, "by restraining it to true facts & sound principles only." Yet I fear such a paper would find few subscribers. It is a melancholy truth, that a suppression of the press could not more completely deprive the nation of it's benefits, than is done by it's abandoned prostitution to falsehood.”

“To, čo k nám prichádza na základe čistej náhody, čistého chaosu a nad čím máme iba pramalú kontrolu, vytvára, akí sme. A to, akí sme, určuje všetky naše kroky, všetko, čo urobíme. Nie naše činy sa k nám vracajú, zvažoval Vokoš, naše činy iba zrkadlia, odrážajú to, čo k nám v živote prišlo. Človek nie je pôvodca, ale následok, obyčajný produkt toho, čo ho postretlo, vytvarovalo, vytvorilo. Človek s celou svojou povahou, myslením a činmi je dôsledkom, nie príčinou.”

“To što mi radimo da bismo si tobože zajamčili život, radi i noj kad gurne glavu u pijesak da ne vidi kako će ga ubiti. Samo što smo mi gori od noja, jer zbog neizvjesnog života u neizvijesnoj budućnosti upropaštavamo život koji sigurno imamo u sadašnjosti. Obmana je u pogrešnoj pretpostavci da sigurnost života proizlazi iz borbe s drugim ljudima. Mi smo do te mjere navikli na prividnu sigurnost svojeg života i svoje imovine, da i ne primjećujemo što sve zbog toga gubimo. A gubimo sve - sav život. Sav život gutaju brige, tako da od pravoga života ne ostaje ništa. Dovoljno je na trenutak se otrgnuti od navika i trijezno promotriti kakav je naš život: sve što radimo u ime prividne sigurnosti života uopće nije zato da bi nam život bio siguran, nego samo zato što nam treba nešto čime bismo se toliko mogli zaokupiti da zaboravimo kako život i nije i ne može biti siguran.”

“To-day I think Only with scents, - scents dead leaves yield, And bracken, and wild carrot's seed, And the square mustard field; Odours that rise When the spade wounds the root of tree, Rose, currant, raspberry, or goutweed, Rhubarb or celery; The smoke's smell, too, Flowing from where a bonfire burns The dead, the waste, the dangerous, And all to sweetness turns. It is enough To smell, to crumble the dark earth, While the robin sings over again Sad songs of Autumn mirth." - A poem called DIGGING.”

“To-day Massachusetts; and the whole of the American republic, from the border of Maine to the Pacific slopes, and from the Lakes to the Gulf, stand upon the immutable and everlasting principles of equal and exact justice. The days of unrequited labor are numbered with the past. Fugitive slave laws are only remembered as relics of that barbarism which John Wesley pronounced "the sum of all villainies," and whose knowledge of its blighting effects was matured by his travels in Georgia and the Carolinas.”

“To-day the whole Christian world prostrates itself in adoration around the crib of Bethlehem and rehearses in accents of love a history which precedes all time and will endure throughout eternity. As if by an instinct of our higher, spiritual nature, there well up from the depths of our hearts, emotions which challenge the power of human expression. We seem to be lifted out of the sphere of natural endeavor to put on a new life and to stretch forward in desire to a blessedness which, though not palpable, is eminently real.”

“To-day there is hardly a woman of intelligence in all America ... who is not definitely and actively concerned in some social interest, who does not recognize some duty besides those incident to her own blood relationship.”

“To-day we live so cowed under the bombardment of this intellectual artillery that hardly anyone can attain to the inward detachment that is required for a clear view of the monstrous drama. The will-to-power operating under a pure democratic disguise has finished off its masterpiece so well that the object's sense of freedom is actually flattered by the most thorough-going enslavement that has ever existed.”

“To-morrow is that lamp upon the marsh, which a traveller never reacheth; To-morrow, the rainbow's cup, coveted prize of ignorance; To-morrow, the shifting anchorage, dangerous trust of manners; To-morrow, the wrecker's beacon, wily snare of the destroyer. Reconcile conviction with delay, and To-morrow is a fatal lie; Frighten resolutions into action, To-morrow is a wholesome truth.”

“To-morrow would bring its own trial with it; so would the next day, and so would the next; each its own trial, and yet the very same that was now so unutterably grievous to be borne. The days of the far-off future would toil onward, still with the same burden for her to take up, and bear along with her, but never to fling down; for the accumulating days, and added years, would pile up their misery upon the heap of shame.”

“To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more. It is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.”

“Toad, with no one to check his statements or to criticize in an unfriendly spirit, rather let himself go. Indeed, much that he related belonged more properly to the category of what-might-have-happened-had-I-only-thought-of-it-in-time-instead-of-ten-minutes-afterwards. Those are always the best and raciest adventures; and why should they not be truly ours, as much as the somewhat inadequate things that really come off?”