WISECRACKER - BAVARD - CHIACCHIERONE - CORREVEIDILE

  • But there's a gude time coming.
    Scott
  • But these are foolish things to all the wise,
    And I love wisdom more than she loves me;
    My tendency is to philosophise
    On most things, from a tyrant to a tree;
    But still the spouseless virgin Knowledge flies,
    What are we? and whence come we? what shall be
    Our ultimate existence? What's our present?
    Are questions answerless, and yet incessant.
    Byron
  • But these are foolish things to all the wise,
    And I love wisdom more than she loves me;
    My tendency is to philosophise
    On most things, from a tyrant to a tree;
    But still the spouseless virgin Knowledge flies,
    What are we? and whence come we? what shall be
    Our ultimate existence? What's our present?
    Are questions answerless, and yet incessant.
    Byron
  • But these dear boys and girls - there is something to be made out of them. If now they yield themselves to Christ they may have a long, happy, and holy day before them in which they may serve God with all their hearts. Who knows what glory God may have of them? Heathen lands may call them blessed. Whole nations may be enlightened by them. O brethren and sisters, let us estimate children at their true valuation, and we shall not keep them back, but we shall be eager to lead them to Jesus at once.
    Spurgeon
  • But these dear boys and girls - there is something to be made out of them. If now they yield themselves to Christ they may have a long, happy, and holy day before them in which they may serve God with all their hearts. Who knows what glory God may have of them? Heathen lands may call them blessed. Whole nations may be enlightened by them. O brethren and sisters, let us estimate children at their true valuation, and we shall not keep them back, but we shall be eager to lead them to Jesus at once.
    Spurgeon
  • But they whom truth and wisdom lead
    Can gather honey from a weed.
    Cowper
  • But they whom truth and wisdom lead
    Can gather honey from a weed.
    Cowper
  • But this denoted a foregone conclusion.
    SHAKESPEARE: Othello, Act iii., Sc. 3.
  • But this denoted a foregone conclusion.
    SHAKESPEARE: Othello, Act iii., Sc. 3.
  • But thou dost make the very night itself
    Brighter than day.
    Longfellow
  • But thou dost make the very night itself
    Brighter than day.
    Longfellow
  • But thou, through good and evil, praise and blame,
    Wilt not thou love me for myself alone?
    Yes, thou wilt love me with exceeding love,
    And I will tenfold all that love repay;
    Still smiling, though the tender may reprove,
    Still faithful, though the trusted may betray.
    Macaulay
  • But thou, through good and evil, praise and blame,
    Wilt not thou love me for myself alone?
    Yes, thou wilt love me with exceeding love,
    And I will tenfold all that love repay;
    Still smiling, though the tender may reprove,
    Still faithful, though the trusted may betray.
    Macaulay
  • But though bare merit might in Rome appear
    The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
    We form our judgment in another way;
    And they will best succeed, who best can pay;
    Those, who would gain the votes of British tribes,
    Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
    Churchill
  • But though bare merit might in Rome appear
    The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
    We form our judgment in another way;
    And they will best succeed, who best can pay;
    Those, who would gain the votes of British tribes,
    Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
    Churchill
  • But through the heart
    Should jealousy its venom once diffuse
    'Tis then delightful misery no more
    But agony unmix'd, incessant gall
    Corroding every thought, and blasting all
    Love's paradise.
    Thomson
  • But through the heart
    Should jealousy its venom once diffuse
    'Tis then delightful misery no more
    But agony unmix'd, incessant gall
    Corroding every thought, and blasting all
    Love's paradise.
    Thomson
  • But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
    Sonnet XVIII, SHAKESPEARE.
  • But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
    Sonnet XVIII, SHAKESPEARE.
  • But Thy good word informs my soul
    How I may climb to heaven.
    Watts
  • But Thy good word informs my soul
    How I may climb to heaven.
    Watts
  • But thy true lovers more admire by far
    Thy naked beauties; give me a cigar.
    Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron)
  • But thy true lovers more admire by far
    Thy naked beauties; give me a cigar.
    Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron)
  • But thy words, with grace divine imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety.
    Milton
  • But thy words, with grace divine imbued, bring to their sweetness no satiety.
    Milton
  • But time strips our illusions of their hue,
    And one by one in turn some grand mistake
    Casts off its bright skin yearly like a snake.
    Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron)
  • But time strips our illusions of their hue,
    And one by one in turn some grand mistake
    Casts off its bright skin yearly like a snake.
    Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron)
  • But times are alter'd; trade's unfeeling train
    Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain;
    Along the lawn, where scatter'd hamlets rose,
    Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose.
    Goldsmith
  • But times are alter'd; trade's unfeeling train
    Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain;
    Along the lawn, where scatter'd hamlets rose,
    Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose.
    Goldsmith
  • But to attempt it, he said, 'should not grieve:
    for he that attempts nothing will nothing achieve.'
    Geoffrey Chaucer, Troilus and Criseyde
  • But to attempt it, he said, 'should not grieve:
    for he that attempts nothing will nothing achieve.'
    Geoffrey Chaucer, Troilus and Criseyde
  • But to know
    That which before us lies in daily life,
    Is the prime wisdom.
    Milton
  • But to know
    That which before us lies in daily life,
    Is the prime wisdom.
    Milton
  • But to my mind,--though I am native here,
    And to the manner born,--it is a custom
    More honored in the breach, than the observance.
    Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 4, SHAKESPEARE.
  • But to my mind,--though I am native here,
    And to the manner born,--it is a custom
    More honored in the breach, than the observance.
    Hamlet, Act i. Sc. 4, SHAKESPEARE.
  • But to the world no bugbear is so great,
    As want of figure and a small estate.
    Pope
  • But to the world no bugbear is so great,
    As want of figure and a small estate.
    Pope
  • But touch me, and no minister so sore.
    Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time
    Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme,
    Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,
    And the sad burthen of some merry song.
    Pope
  • But touch me, and no minister so sore.
    Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time
    Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme,
    Sacred to ridicule his whole life long,
    And the sad burthen of some merry song.
    Pope
  • But true expression, like th' unchanging sun,
    Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon;
    It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
    Pope
  • But true expression, like th' unchanging sun,
    Clears and improves whate'er it shines upon;
    It gilds all objects, but it alters none.
    Pope
  • But virtue never will be mov'd,
    Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven.
    Shakespeare
  • But virtue never will be mov'd,
    Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven.
    Shakespeare
  • But virtue too, as well as vice, is clad in flesh and blood.
    Waller
  • But virtue too, as well as vice, is clad in flesh and blood.
    Waller
  • But we all are men,
    In our own natures frail; and capable
    Of our flesh, few are angels.
    Shakespeare
  • But we all are men,
    In our own natures frail; and capable
    Of our flesh, few are angels.
    Shakespeare
  • But we must do good against evil.
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Ende gut, alles gut II, 5
  • But we must do good against evil.
    William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Ende gut, alles gut II, 5
  • But what am I?
    An infant crying in the night;
    An infant crying for the light,
    And with no language but a cry.
    Tennyson
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