Thegloryof God isman, and thegloryof manishisdress.
For Mercy has a human heart Pity a human face: And Love, the human form divine, And Peace, the human dress.
You must understand that this is not a woman's dress I'm wearing. It's a man's dress.
The difference inthis case between a manof senseand a fop, is, thatthefopvalueshimself uponhis dress; theman of sense laughs at it, at the same time that he knows he must not neglect it.
There isno suchthing as a moral dress It's people who are moral or immoral.
Ce n'est gue' re que dans les asiles que les coquettes gardent avec ente" tement une foi entie' re en des regards absents; normalement, elles re clament des te moins. Women fond of dress are hardly ever entirely satisfied not to be seen, except among the insane; usually they want witnesses.
Wasthere ever sucha sunnystreet asthis Broadway! The pavement stones are polished with thetread of feet until they shine again Heaven save the ladies, how they dress! We have seen more colours in these ten minutes, than we should have seen elsewhere, in as many days. What various parasols! what rainbow silks and satins! what pinking of thin stockings and pinching of thin shoes, and fluttering of ribbons and silk tassels, and display of rich cloaks with gaudy hoods and linings!
Youmust dressaccording toyourage, yourpursuits, your object in life.
'I know of no joy,'she airily began,'greater than a cool white dress after the sweetness of confession.'
Fond Pride of Dress is sure an Empty Curse; E'er Fancy you consult, consult your Purse.
Their dress is very independent of fashion; as they observe,'What does it signify how we dress here at Cranford, where everybody knows us?'And if they go from home, their reason is equally cogent,'What does it signify how we dress here, where nobody knows us?'
Those who make their dress a principal part of themselves, will, in general, become of no more value than their dress.
A sweet disorder in the dress 400 Kindles in clothes a wantonness: A lawn about the shoulders thrown Into a fine distraction A careless shoe-string, in whose tie I see a wild civility: Do more bewitch me, than when Art Is too precise in every part.
Dress is a form of visual art, a creation of images with the visible self as its medium.
Her crocus dress she wore, lowcut, belongings on show.
Are simple women only fit To dress, to darn, to flower or knit, To mind the distaff, or the spit? Why are the needle and the pen Thought incompatible by men? 507
The car has becomeanarticle ofdresswithout whichwe feel uncertain, unclad, and incomplete in the urban compound.
The root of Evil, Avarice That damn'd ill-natur'd, baneful Vice, Was Slave to Prodigality, That noble Sin; whilst Luxury Employed a Million of the Poor, And odious Pride a Million more; Envy itself, and Vanity, Were Ministers of Industry; Their darling Folly, Fickleness, In Diet, Furniture and Dress That strange ridic'lous Vice, was made That very Wheel that turned theTrade.
It's better to be dead, or even perfectly well, than to suffer from the wrong affliction. The man who owns up to arthritis in a beri-beri year is as lonely as a woman in a last month's dress.
Government, even in its best state, is but a necessary evil; in its worst state, an intolerable one.Government, like dress, is the badge of lost innocence; the palaces of kings are built upon the bowers of paradise.
Expression is the dress of thought.
When did we begin to dress ourselves?
We don't bother much about dress and manners in England, because, as a nation, we don't dress well and we've no manners.
A mancannot dress,but hisideasgetcloath'datthesame time.
In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer, quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street.
The sun hums down through the cotton flowers of her dress into the bell of her heart and buzzes in the honey there and couches and kisses, lazy-loving and boozed, in her red-berried breast.
Ihold that gentlemanto be thebest dressedwhose dress no one observes.
Before I taught my tongue to wound My conscience with a sinful sound, Or had the black art to dispense A several sin to every sense, But felt through all this fleshly dress Bright shoots of everlastingness.
An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress.
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