. . . it is yours women's to be silent and stay within doors.
Like our shadows, our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
How blessings brighten as they take their flight.
How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man!. . . Midway from nothing to the Deity!
Too low they build who build below the skies.
Who lives to Nature, rarely can be poor ; who lives to fancy, never can be rich.
Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew, She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven.
Take it and be thankful.
Write down everything you want to do with your life and then spend the next 25 years doing them.
To the man who can perfectly practice inaction, all things are possible.
The key to my work is that I stopped, physically, to observe something. I raised my camera and recorded my observations.