They [the Pilgrims] believed in freedom of thought for themselves and for all other people who believed exactly as they did.
Once more I am a wanderer, a pilgrim, through the world. But what else are you?
Our relationship with Nature. . . best way of forging this relationship. . . be a pilgrim and not a tourist on Planet Earth
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;Though yet no marble column cravesThe pilgrim here to pause. Stoop, angels, hither from the skies!There is no holier spot of groundThan where defeated valor lies,By mourning beauty crowned!
In dreams we stand in this great democracy of the possible and there we are right pilgrims indeed. There we go forth to meet what we shall meet.
All joy. . . emphasizes our pilgrim status; always reminds, beckons, awakens desire. Our best havings are wantings.
In each of us dwells a pilgrim. It is the part of us that longs to have direct contact with the sacred.
When You Are Old" WHEN you are old and grey and full of sleep, And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; How many loved your moments of glad grace, And loved your beauty with love false or true, But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, And loved the sorrows of your changing face; And bending down beside the glowing bars, Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled And paced upon the mountains overhead And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.
The Pilgrim and the Puritan whom we honor tonight were men who did a great deal of work in the world. They had their faults and their - shortcomings, but they were not slothful in business and they were most fervent in spirit.
Thou hast seen many sorrows, travel-stained pilgrim of the world, But that which hath vexed thee most, hath been the looking for evil; And though calamities have crossed thee, and misery been heaped on thy head, Yet ills that never happened, have chiefly made thee wretched.
The mind of the Renaissance was not a pilgrim mind, but a sedentary city mind, like that of the ancients.
