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 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, 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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
But what is life ? 'Tis not to stalk about, and draw fresh air, From time to time, or gaze upon the sun ; 'Tis to be Free. When Liberty is gone, Life grows insipid, and has lost its relish. JOSEPH ADDISON (1672-1719), Cato. Act 2, 3.
But what is the imagination? Only an arm or weapon of the interior energy; only the precursor of the reason. Emerson
But what is truth? 'Twas Pilate's question put To Truth itself, that deign'd him no reply. Cowper
But what is woman? Only one of nature's agreeable blunders. Cowley
But what minutes! Count them by sensation, and not by calendars, and each moment is a day and the race a life. Beaconsfield
But what will not ambition and revenge Descend to? who aspires must down as low As high he soar'd, obnoxious first or last To basest things. Milton
But when I tell him he hates flatterers, He says he does, being then most flattered. Shakespeare
But when lust, By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, But most by lewd and lavish arts of sin, Lets in defilement to the inward parts, The soul grows clotted by contagion, Imbodies and imbrutes, till she quite lose The divine property of her first being. Milton
But when shall spring visit the mouldering urn? O, when shall it dawn on the night of the grave? Beattie
But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He'll soon find means to make the body follow. Shakespeare
But when? quoth Kettle to his mare.
But wherefore could not I pronounce 'Amen'?
But while I breathe Heaven's air, and Heaven looks down on me, And smiles at my best meanings, I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul. Tennyson
But whither went his soul, let such relate Who search the secrets of the future state: Divines can say but what themselves believe; Strong proofs they have, but not demonstrative: For, were all plain, then all sides must agree, And faith itself be lost in certainty. To live uprightly then is sure the best, To save ourselves, and not to damn the rest. Dryden
But who alas! can love and then be wise? Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron)
But who can count the stars of heaven? Who sing their influence on this lower world? Thomson
But who with filial confidence inspired, Can lift to heaven an unpresumptuous eye, And smiling say, my Father made them all. Cowper
But who would force the Soul, tilts with a straw Against a Champion cased in adamant. Wordsworth
But who would scorn the month of June, Because December with his breath so hoary, Must come? Much rather should he court the ray, To hoard up warmth against a wintry day. Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron)
But wild ambition loves to slide, not stand, And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land. Absalom and Achitophel, Pt. I, J. DRYDEN.
But Winter has yet brighter scenes - he boasts Splendors beyond what gorgeous Summer knows, Or Autumn with his many fruits, and woods All flushed with many hues. Come when the rains Have glazed the snow and clothed the trees with ice, While the slant sun of February pours Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach! The incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps, And the broad arching portals of the grove Welcome thy entering. Bryant
But winter lingering chills the lap of May. Goldsmith
But wisdom, awful wisdom! which inspects, Discerns, compares, weighs, separates, infers, Seizes the right, and holds it to the last. Young
But with the morning cool reflections came. Scott
But woe awaits a country, when She sees the tears of bearded men. Scott
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think. Don Juan, Canto III, LORD BYRON.