A Quote by Anton Chekhov

Dear, sweet, unforgettable childhood! — © Anton Chekhov
Dear, sweet, unforgettable childhood!
Dear, sweet, unforgettable childhood! Why does this irrevocable time, forever departed, seem brighter, more festive and richer than it actually was?
Unforgettable, that's what you are Unforgettable though near or far Like a song of love that clings to me How the thought of you does things to me Never before has someone been more Unforgettable in every way And forever more, that's how you'll stay That's why, darling, it's incredible That someone so unforgettable Thinks that I am unforgettable too
O thrush, your song is passing sweet, But never a song that you have sung Is half so sweet as thrushes sang When my dear love and I were young.
The young May moon is beaming, love. The glow-worm's lamp is gleaming, love. How sweet to rove, Through Morna's grove, When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! Then awake! - the heavens look bright, my dear, 'Tis never too late for delight, my dear, And the best of all ways To lengthen our days Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!
Sweet is the rose, but grows upon a brere; Sweet is the juniper, but sharp his bough; Sweet is the eglantine, but stiketh nere; Sweet is the firbloome, but its braunches rough; Sweet is the cypress, but its rynd is tough; Sweet is the nut, but bitter is his pill; Sweet is the broome-flowre, but yet sowre enough; And sweet is moly, but his root is ill.
My unforgettable childhood memory was when I got Bidaai.' I was in school when I got this show and I was in Bhopal at that time. I can never forget it.
Oh, dear God, thank you, you are such a good God to us. A kind and gentle and accommodating God, and we thank You oh sweet, sweet Lord of hosts for the smörgåsbord You have so aptly laid at our table this day, and each day, by day, day by day, by day oh dear Lord three things we pray to love Thee more dearly, to see Thee more clearly, to follow Thee more nearly, day, by day, by day. Amen.
My own dear love, he is strong and bold And he cares not what comes after. His words ring sweet as a chime of gold, And his eyes are lit with laughter. He is jubilant as a flag unfurled - Oh, a girl, she'd not forget him. My own dear love, he is all my world - And I wish I'd never met him.
A sweet thing, for whatever time, to revisit in dreams the dear dad we have lost.
Most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.
Harvester might have a halo, but dear, sweet Lord, she was no angel in the sack. Awesome.
When you see something special, something inspired, you realise the debt we owe great curators and their unforgettable shows - literally unforgettable because you remember every picture, every wall and every juxtaposition.
How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view.
The late afternoon sunlight, warm as oil, sweet as childhood.
No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.
When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all. It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while. Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.
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