rest

A narrow compass! and yet there Dwelt all that 's good, and all that 's fair; Give me but what this riband bound, Take all the rest the sun goes round.

Nothing in progression can rest on its original plan. We may as well think of rocking a grown man in the cradle of an infant.

Just why I suffer loss I cannot know, I only know my Father wills it so. He leads in paths I cannot understand; But all the way I know is wisely planned. My life is only mine that I may use The gifts he length me as he may choose; And if in love some boon he does recall, I know that unto him belongeth all. I am his child and I can safely trust; He loves me and I know that he is just. Within his love I can scarcely rest, Assured that what he does for me is best.

Finally on Sunday morning, October 7, 1849, "He became quiet and seemed to rest for a short time. Then, gently, moving his head, he said, "Lord help my poor soul." As he had lived so he died-in great misery and tragedy.

From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a common spring. From the same source I have not taken My sorrow; I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone; And all I loved, I loved alone. Then- in my childhood, in the dawn Of a most stormy life- was drawn From every depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still: From the torrent, or the fountain, From the red cliff of the mountain, From the sun that round me rolled In its autumn tint of gold, From the lightning in the sky As it passed me flying by, From the thunder and the storm, And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view.

Many a standing ovation has been caused by someone jumping to his feet in an effort to beat the rest of the audience to the parking lot.

A flock of wild geese had settled to rest on a pond. One of the flock had been captured by a gardener, who had clipped its wings before releasing it. When the geese started to resume their flight, this one tried frantically, but vainly, to lift itself into the air. The others, observing his struggles, flew about in obvious efforts to encourage him; but it was no use. Thereupon, the entire flock settled back on the pond and waited, even though the urge to go on was strong within them. For several days they waited until the damaged feather had grown sufficiently to permit the goose to fly. Meanwhile, the unethical gardener, having been converted by the ethical geese, gladly watched them as they finally rose together and all resumed their long flight.

Good Night Sweet Prince and a flight of angels sing to thy rest.

The quickest and shortest way to crush whatever laurels you have won is for you to rest on them.

Successful people are the ones who can think up stuff for the rest of the world to keep busy at.