When the sunne shineth, make hay.
How unjust then to meet that person you love, and be kept away from them only because ones bed is made of hay , and the other, feathers.
Put the hay down where the sheep can reach it.
We may have been like needles in a hay stack, but they were like needles. . . in a stack of needles
Longhaired preachers come out every night, Tryin' to tell us what's wrong and what's right. But when asked about something to eat, They will tell you in voices so sweet. You will eat (You will eat!) By and by, (By and by!) In that glorious land in the sky. (Way up high!) Work and pray, live on hay, You'll get pie in the sky when you die. (That's a lie!)
If we are going to amend the constitution, shouldn't it be to keep the omos-hay from arrying-may?
So in a strange way, even though Trump is a billionaire, what he's been saying is, "Everything's rigged, it's all corrupt and I'm not corrupt because I'm my own billionaire. " Both [Donald] Trump and Bernie Sanders made a lot of hay by making that argument.
In good yeares corne is hay, in ill yeares straw is corne.
When the sun shineth, make hay.
The thicker the hay; the easier mowed.
I don't do farm animals. Can't stand hay in your leathers? Or wool in my teeth.
My men like satyrs grazing on the lawns, Shall with their goat-feet dance an antic hay.
I wish that the circuses that were around now felt like they did then. They're not quite as elegant or as magical as they used to be. There was something about the old tent shows, the Big Top, the canvas, the lights, the sawdust, the hay and the animals that's just missing now. Now, it's all urbanized and maybe a little garish.
Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road-- Only wakes upon the sea. Caminante, son tus huellas el camino, y nada más; caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar. Al andar se hace camino, y al volver la vista atrás se ve la senda que nunca se ha de volver a pisar. Caminante, no hay camino, sino estelas en la mar.
I just think make hay while the sun shines really when you're an actor. When the opportunities present themselves you just better take them, otherwise you just don't know.
Elizabeth Hay has intelligence coming out of her fingertips - integrity, insight, and wonder in every paragraph of her writing. She connects. She stirs and provokes.
Dobbin at manger pulls his hay: Gone is another summer's day.
I get the same buzz cleaning up the yard as Leo Tolstoy did from scything hay.
A real farmer. He spent his childhood in the wheat, and his marriage in the hay.
The fears of what may come to pass, I cast them all away, Among the clover scented grass, Among the new-mown hay.
