Golden Days Quotes

Freindshipp is beyond all relations of flesh and blood, because it is less materiall.

Welcome every morning with a smile. Look on the new day as another special gift from your Creator, another golden opportunity to complete what you were unable to finish yesterday.

It seems like all the good looking people have smaller dogs these days.

Especially for the women, because they always come in with their little Chihuahuas and the guys come in with their Golden Retrievers.

There was the gaudy patch of sunflowers beside the west gate of the palace of the Prince of Ombria, that did nothing all day long but turn their golden-haired, thousand-eyed faces to follow the sun.

In tangled wreath, in clustered gleaming stars, In floating, curling sprays, The golden flower comes shining though the woods These February days; Forth go all hearts, all hands, from out the town, To bring her gayly in, This wild, sweet Princess of far Florida - The yellow jessamine.

All those golden autumn days the sky was full of wings.

Wings beating low over the blue water of Silver Lake, wings beating high in the blue air far above it . . . bearing them all away to the green fields in the South.

The years, the months, the days, and the hours have flown by my open window.

Here and there an incident, a towering moment, a naked memory, an etched countenance, a whisper in the dark, a golden glow these and much more are the woven fabric of the time I have lived.

The days of the future stand in front of us Like a line of candles all alight Golden and warm and lively little candles.

Do something every day that you don't want to do. This is the golden rule for acquiring the habit of doing your duty without pain.

It was, as I have said, a fine autumnal day;

the sky was clear and serene, and nature wore that rich and golden livery which we always associate with the idea of abundance. The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tendered kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet.

Invest the first hour of the day, the 'Golden Hour,' in yourself.

I wanted to do my part to help preserve that golden age of travel.

.. I step aboard The Patron Tequila Express railcar, and I go back in time to the days when a long journey was something fun and very special.

The Sahara was a spectacle as alive as the sea.

The tints of the dunes changed according to the time of day and the angle of the light: golden as apricots from far off, when we drove close to them they turned to freshly made butter; behind us they grew pink; from sand to rock, the materials of which the desert was made varied as much as its tints.

Soon we'll be out amid the cold world's strife.

Soon we'll be sliding down the razor blade of life. But as we go our sordid sep'rate ways, We shall ne'er forget thee, thou golden college days. Hearts full of youth, Hearts full of truth, Six parts gin to one part vermouth.

O poor New England! There is a deep laid plot against your civil and religious liberties, and they will be lost. Your golden days are at an end. You have nothing but trouble before you. . . . Your liberties will be lost.

Happy days roll onward leading up to golden years.

But see, in our open clearings, how golden the melons lie;

Enrich them with sweets and spices, and give us the pumpkin-pie!

One golden day redeems a weary year

Hats change everything. September knew this with all her being, deep in the place where she knew her own name, and that her mother would still love her even though she hadn’t waved goodbye. For one day her father had put on a hat with golden things on it and suddenly he hadn’t been her father anymore, he had been a soldier, and he had left. Hats have power. Hats can change you into someone else.

In a Wonderland they lie, Dreaming as the days go by, Dreaming as the summers die: Ever drifting down the stream- Lingering in the golden gleam- Life, what is it but a dream?

It is not to remain in a golden ciborium that He comes down each day from Heaven, but to find another Heaven, the Heaven of our soul in which He takes delight.

I would say luck and preparation. I didn't dominate WWE when I first started, it was a slow process. I wasn't labelled the golden child from day one, it's been a very long road.

Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours For one lone soul another lonely soul, Each choosing each through all the weary hours, And meeting strangely at one sudden goal, Then blend they, like green leaves with golden flowers, Into one beautiful and perfect whole; And life's long night is ended, and the way Lies open onward to eternal day.

Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year.

The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.

The Prophet's words were true; The mouth of Ali is the golden door Of Wisdom." When his friends to Ali bore These words, he smiled and said: "And should they ask The same until my dying day, the task Were easy; for the stream from Wisdom's well, Which God supplies, is inexhaustible.

We are wistful about the golden days of the past and dream of a distant future unclouded by necessity. But I suspect that if our inner souls were asked what in life they really missed, the answer would be primal danger and stress.

To write is to pour one’s innermost self passionately upon the tempting paper, at such frantic speed that sometimes one’s hand struggles and rebels, overdriven by the impatient god which guides it - and to find, next day, in place of the golden bough that bloomed miraculously in that dazzling hour, a withered bramble and a stunted flower.

March came in that winter like the meekest and mildest of lambs, bringing days that were crisp and golden and tingling, each followed by a frosty pink twilight which gradually lost itself in an elfland of moonshine.

And let these altars, wreathed with flowers And piled with fruits, awake again Thanksgivings for the golden hours, The early and the latter rain!

Some days are diamonds, some days are rocks.

Some doors are opened, some roads are blocked. Sundowns are golden, then fade away. And if I never do nothing, I'll get you back someday.

The butterfly long loved the beautiful rose, And flirted around all day;

While round him in turn with her golden caress, Soft fluttered the sun's warm ray.... I know not with whom the rose was in love, But I know that I loved them all. The butterfly, rose, and the sun's bright ray, The star and the bird's sweet call.

Yellow, mellow, ripened days, Sheltered in a golden coating;

O'er the dreamy, listless haze, White and dainty cloudlets floating; Winking at the blushing trees, And the sombre, furrowed fallow; Smiling at the airy ease, Of the southward flying swallow Sweet and smiling are thy ways, Beauteous, golden Autumn days.

The wheel of the Good Law moves swiftly on.

It grinds by night and day. The worthless husks it drives from out the golden grain, the refuse from the flour. The hand of fate guides the wheel; the revolutions mark the beatings of the heart of manifestation.

Between Clive Owen winning at the Golden Globes and the British Academy announcing its nominations, of which Sideways received only one, I'm feeling pretty humbled these days.