[the 54th has just been attached to Col. Montgomery's regiment in the hope of seeing combat. The troops are marching through the regiment's camp] Cpl. Thomas Searles: Who are these ragamuffins? John Rawlins: Contraband soldiers, straight from the fie...
We're pieces on a gameboard, Dr. March, and some of us are more powerful than others. You. Me. Her. We're the ones the gods want. We're the ones they're fighting over.
I had a teacher in art school who said something about the only works he really enjoyed seeing or found much in were works where he had a sense that a discovery was made in the course of making this object. I like to hold to that as my marching order...
Blessed be you, mighty matter, irresistible march of evolution, reality ever newborn; you who, by constantly shattering our mental categories, force us to go ever further and further in our pursuit of the truth.
Let us at least say of religion that it means that every part of the body is infused with mind, not that the mind is overwhelmed and drowned in body. For the principal attribute of the Gods, without or within us, is mind.
They had been brought up to think that the domestic virtues were self-evident and universal; they had been starved of the knowledge that most attracts the young mind: that the crown of life is the exercise of choice
She was trying to make him understand that she would never march to the beat of anyone else's drum again and he was arrogantly assuring her that she would if he were the drummer!
It was a needless precaution, I felt sure, but men always enjoy marching around with weapons and flexing their figurative muscles, and I saw no reason to deny them this harmless exercise.
I loved going to the library. It was the first time I ever saw Black newspapers and magazines like JET, Ebony, the Baltimore Afro-American, or the Chicago Defender. And I’ll never forget my librarian.
Sidda can't help herself. She just loves books. Loves the way they feel, the way they smell, loves the black letters marching across the white pages...
I keep turning over new leaves, and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copybooks; and I make so many beginnings there never will be an end. (Jo March)
Because they are mean is no reason why I should be. I hate such things, and though I think I've a right to be hurt, I don't intend to show it. (Amy March)
As Hazel marched down the hill, she cursed in Latin. Percy didn’t understand all of it, but he got , , and a few choice suggestions about where Octavian could stick his knife.
Everything is a tool - a boot, a sled, a dog - and a hand, an arm, even a man! If it breaks down you throw it away and you march on! It's brutal, yes! And it's ugly. But anything else is sentiment and it will kill you.
I am an uncle, though this is not a new feeling for me, as I’ve been one before. I’ve also been 2 through 32, and I turn 33 in March.
I only know I was born on March 5th because someone told me. I don’t remember myself. So it’s fact based on secondhand information and trust.
The Old Days, the Lost Days -- in the half-closed eyes of memory (and in fact) they never marched across a calendar; they huddled round a burning log, leaned on a certain table, or listened to those certain songs.
A nugget of wisdom is more valuable than a nugget of gold—and considerably harder to pan out of a river. I’ll be 33 in March, and all I’ve found so far is fool’s gold. Still, I was able to trade it for political favors.
As the blinding lights of heaven in a slow march approach, to caress the earth to wake her up, I too would like to be a part of the legacy by wishing you, “Happy Good Morning”.
I am never at my best in the early morning, especially a cold morning in the Yorkshire spring with a piercing March wind sweeping down from the fells, finding its way inside my clothing, nipping at my nose and ears.
When an invading force crosses a river in its onward march, do not advance to meet it in mid-stream. It will be best to let half the army get across, and then deliver your attack.
