Best 38 of Hay quotes - MyQuotes
Who did you pass on the road?" the King went on, holding out his hand to the Messenger for some more hay. "Nobody," said the Messenger. "Quite right," said the King; "this young lady saw him too. So of course Nobody walks slower than you." "I do my best," the Messenger said in a sullen tone. "I'm sure nobody walks much faster than I do!" "He can't do that," said the King, "or else he'd have been here first.
Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more; wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. By walking one makes the road, and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again. Wanderer, there is no road-- Only wakes upon the sea. Caminante, son tus huellas el camino, y nada más; caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar. Al andar se hace camino, y al volver la vista atrás se ve la senda que nunca se ha de volver a pisar. Caminante, no hay camino, sino estelas en la mar.
Work and pray, live on hay, youll get pie in the sky when you die.
When a woman's face is wrinkled And her hairs are sprinkled, With gray, Lackaday! Aside she's cast, No one respect will pay; Remember, Lasses, remember. And while the sun shines make hay: You must not expect in December, The flowers you gathered in May.
You're wondering what a bale of hay has to do with success. Well, there's a trick to loading hay. You have to use your knee. What you do is, you put your right knee behind it and half kick it up in the air. That way you get some lift on it. ... My point is, there are certain ways to make a hard job easier.
For the sake of argument and illustration I will presume that certain articles of ordinary diet, however beneficial in youth, are prejudicial in advanced life, like beans to a horse, whose common ordinary food is hay and corn.
He has hay upon his horn. [He is a mischievous person.]
Jolly boating weather, And a hay harvest breeze, Blade on the feather, Shade off the trees.
Hay algo más tonto en la vida Que llamarse Pablo Neruda? (is there anything more insane in this life than being called Pablo Neruda?)
She once told him about the mysterious trampled-down places found in fields, which the peasants superstitiously called werewolves' nests. Coming across one of these sites, she fell to her knees and buried her face in the flattened yellow grasses, hoping to inhale the odor of a werewolf, a csordásfarkas. As if his scent was a charm. She smelled nothing but hay burned by the afternoon sun.
I get the same buzz cleaning up the yard as Leo Tolstoy did from scything hay.
Faltering thinking and indecisive conduct often result in losing ground and yielding to bleak caginess that generates the redoubtable Buridan’s syndrome. As Buridan’s ass is placed equally between a stack of hay and a pail of water, it dies of both hunger and thirst. ("The door was still ajar")
Eyes and ears are two. Lungs and kidneys, too. I wonder then why we're born with one heart that skips a beat when hay is here, and beats quickly when you are near. One heart that cracks when you are far, lie to me and leave a scar. I wonder then why we're born with one heart that gets broken. Was I supposed to find you then? So your heart would make one plus one is two for me and two for you.
Answer July- Where is the Bee- Where is the Blush- Where is the Hay? Ah, said July- Where is the Seed- Where is the Bud- Where is the May- Answer Thee-Me-
Doris Kearns Goodwin
(from John Hay's diary) “The President never appeared to better advantage in the world,” Hay proudly noted in his diary. “Though He knows how immense is the danger to himself from the unreasoning anger of that committee, he never cringed to them for an instant. He stood where he thought he was right and crushed them with his candid logic.
Henry David Thoreau
The Universal Soul, as it is called, has an interest in the stacking of hay, the foddering of cattle, and the draining of peat-meadows.
I made some nice associations. Ben Perowsky and Kevin Hays... Bill Mobley and Pete McGuinness. A lot of talented people.
The same rain that drowns the rat will grow the hay.
Ogwo David Emenike
As the sun shines I will make hay To keep failure at bay For there remaineth a pay For my honest toil each day.
You know, for most of its life bluegrass has had this stigma of being all straw hats and hay bales and not necessarily the most sophisticated form of music. Yet you can't help responding to its honesty. It's music that finds its way deep into your soul because it's strings vibrating against wood and nothing else.
Let's make hay while it lasts.
The world is wider in all directions, more dangerous and bitter, more extravagant and bright. We are making hay when we should be making whoopee; we are raising tomatoes when we should be raising Cain and Lazarus.
In good yeares corne is hay, in ill yeares straw is corne.
While we lie tumbling in the hay.
Alexander, Caesar, Napoleon, you all had great moments, but you never tasted the supreme triumph; you were never a farm boy riding in from the fields on a bulging rack of new-mown hay.
You alarm me!' said the King. 'I feel faint—Give me a ham sandwich!' On which the Messenger, to Alice's great amusement, opened a bag that hung round his neck, and handed a sandwich to the King, who devoured it greedily. 'Another sandwich!' said the King. 'There's nothing but hay left now,' the Messenger said, peeping into the bag. 'Hay, then,' the King murmured in a faint whisper. Alice was glad to see that it revived him a good deal. 'There's nothing like eating hay when you're faint,' he remarked to her, as he munched away. 'I should think throwing cold water over you would be better,' Alice suggested: 'or some sal-volatile.' 'I didn't say there was nothing better,' the King replied. 'I said there was nothing like it.' Which Alice did not venture to deny.
Miguel De Cervantes
Let us make hay while the sun shines.
So in a strange way, even though Trump is a billionaire, what he's been saying is, "Everything's rigged, it's all corrupt and I'm not corrupt because I'm my own billionaire." Both [Donald] Trump and Bernie Sanders made a lot of hay by making that argument.
I've always considered myself a physical person. I don't call myself a farm girl, but I did spend a lot of years shoveling manure and throwing hay, because I worked to pay most of my riding expenses.
A real farmer. He spent his childhood in the wheat, and his marriage in the hay.
Maria V. Snyder
Yalena: Could you always open your door? Kiki: Yes. Fence, too. Yalena Why don't you? Kiki: Hay sweet. Fresh water. Peppermints.
Put the hay down where the sheep can reach it.
How unjust then to meet that person you love, and be kept away from them only because ones bed is made of hay , and the other, feathers.
I'd better make hay while the sun shines.
The fears of what may come to pass, I cast them all away, Among the clover scented grass, Among the new-mown hay.
I didn't think of rap with that type of south feel and that look and the hay and all that.
Elizabeth Hay has intelligence coming out of her fingertips - integrity, insight, and wonder in every paragraph of her writing.She connects. She stirs and provokes.
The thicker the hay; the easier mowed.