Trod Quotes
More Trod Quotes
Waste of Blood, and waste of Tears, Waste of youth's most precious years, Waste of ways the saints have trod, Waste of Glory, waste of God, War!
'Woodbine Willie'— 1919 More Rough Rhymes of a Padre,'Waste'.
Asked if he had ever conducted any Stockhausen, he said, "No, but I once trod in some."
thomas beecham— [1][2]
Wild was the day; the wintry seaMoaned sadly on New England's strand,When first the thoughtful and the free,Our fathers, trod the desert land.
william cullen bryant— The Twenty-Second of December, st. 1.
Going as if he trod upon eggs.
robert burton— Section 2, member 3.
Jesus does not drive His followers on before, as a herd of unwilling disciples, but goes before Himself, leading them into paths that He has trod, and dangers He has met, and sacrifices He has borne Himself, calling them after Him and to be only followers.
horace bushnell— P. 89. (Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895))
It was one of the greatest thrills of my life to stand there, waist high in crusty snow, on a peak never before trod by human kind, surrounded by the great ghostly shadows of other individual peaks in this range. I practised my yodel which echoed and re-echoed with no human to hear. It was glorious, a sense of peace and freedom such as I never known before.
judy lamarsh— CHAPTER 8, Centennial summer, p. 196
Who that hath ever beenCould bear to be no more?Yet who would tread again the sceneHe trod through life before?
james montgomery— The Falling Leaf.
You shall not pile, with servile toil, Your monuments upon my breast, Nor yet within the common soil Lay down the wreck of power to rest, Where man can boast that he has trod On him that was “the scourge of God.”
edward everett— "The Dirge of Alaric, the Visigoth" In The New Monthly Magazine and Literary Journal Vol. V, No. 25 (January-June 1823), p. 64.
You may write me down in history With your bitter twisted lies You may trod me down in the very dirt And still like the dust I'll rise.
ben harper— I'll Rise, written by Ben Harper and Maya Angelou
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
gerard manley hopkins— God's Grandeur, lines 5-8
Nonexistence. The society of the nonexistent. In the street yesterday a nonexistent person trod on my foot with his nonexistent foot.
imre kertész— p. 30 (Detective Story (2008))
In some far off place Many light years in space I’ll wait for you. Where human feet have never trod, Where human eyes have never seen. I'll build a world of abstract dreams And wait for you.
sun ra— Liner notes to Monorails and Satellites (1968)
Somewhere beyond the curtain Of distorting days Lives that lonely thing That shone before these eyes Targeted, trod like Spring.
William Butler Yeats— Quarrel In Old Age, st. 2
Cinderella's lefts and rights To Geraldine's were frights, And I trow The damsel, deftly shod, Has dutifully trod Until now.
— Frederick Locker-Lampson, To My Mistress's Boots.
Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before. Advanced a stage or two upon that road which you must travel in the steps they trod.
— Aristophanes, Fragment, II; translation by Cumberland.
Death's but a path that must be trod, if man would ever pass to God.
thomas parnell— Thomas Parnell, Night-Piece on Death, line 67.
What's hallow'd ground? Has earth a clod Its Maker mean'd not should be trod By man, the image of his God, Erect and free, Unscourged by Superstition's rod To bow the knee.
thomas campbell— Thomas Campbell, Hallowed Ground.
You shall not pile, with servile toil, Your monuments upon my breast, Nor yet within the common soil Lay down the wreck of power to rest, Where man can boast that he has trod On him that was "the scourge of God."
edward everett— Edward Everett, Alaric the Visigoth.
O Thou by whom we come to God The Life, the Truth, the Way; The path of prayer Thyself hast trod; Lord, teach us how to pray.
— James Montgomery, p. 460. (Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895))
To every outworn shibboleth of 19th-century economics he clung with fanatic tenacity. Economy, Free Trade, Gold - these were the keynotes of his political philosophy, and deflation the path he trod with almost ghoulish enthusiasm.
— Robert Boothby in: Robert Rhodes James, Bob Boothby (1991), p. 102; About Philip Snowden, 1st Viscount Snowden
Nathless the sacred shrine is holy yet, With its lone floors where reverent feet once trod. Take off your shoes as by the burning bush, Before the mystery of death and God.
Emma Lazarus— Emma Lazarus, In the Jewish Synagogue at Newport [1]
You led our sons across the haunted flood, Into the Canaan of their high desire No milk and honey there, but tears and blood Flowed where the hosts of evil trod in fire, And left a worse than desert where they passed.
— Amelia J. Burr, To General Pershing.
Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod, They have left unstained, what there they found, Freedom to worship God.
felicia hemans— Felicia Hemans, Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers.
Take me, O my Father, take me! Take me, save me, through Thy Son; That which Thou wouldst have me, make me, Let Thy will in me be done. Long from Thee my footsteps straying, Thorny proved the way I trod; Weary come I now, and praying Take me to Thy love, my God!
— Ray Palmer, p. 158. (Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895))
Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod. They have left unstained, what there they found Freedom to worship God.
felicia hemans— Felicia Hemans, The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers.
There shall be no more snow No weary noontide heat, So we lift our trusting eyes From the hills our Fathers trod: To the quiet of the skies: To the Sabbath of our God.
felicia hemans— Felicia Hemans, Evening Song of the Tyrolese Peasants.
And bound for the same bourn as I, On every road I wandered by, trod beside me, close and dear, The beautiful and death-struck year.
— 1896 A Shropshire Lad, no.41.
Some write their wrongs in marble: he more just, Stoop’d down serene and wrote them in the dust, trod under foot, the sport of every wind, Swept from the earth and blotted from his mind. There, secret in the grave, he bade them lie, And grieved they could not ’scape the Almighty eye.
— Boulter's Monument (1745), dedicated to Frederick, Prince of Wales, who had been Madden's student.
