A Quote by Beilby Porteus
Love is something so divine, Description would but make it less; 'Tis what I feel, but can't define, 'Tis what I know but can't express
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Tis light translateth night; 'tis inspiration Expounds experience; 'tis the west explains The east; 'tis time unfolds Eternity.
And O there are days in this life, worth life and worth death. And O what a bright old song it is, that O 'tis love, 'tis love, 'tis love that makes the world go round!
Tis well to borrow from the good and the great; 'Tis wise to learn: 'tis God-like to create!
Friendship's an abstract of this noble flame, 'Tis love refin'd, and purged from all its dross, 'Tis next to angel's love, if not the same, As strong in passion is, though not so gross.
Oh, 'tis love, 'tis love that makes the world go round.
Love is the fart
Of every heart
It pains the man when 'tis kept close,
And others doth offend, when 'tis let loose.
When any opinion leads us into absurdities, 'tis certainly false; but 'tis not certain an opinion is false, because 'tis of dangerous consequence.
Tis true, 'tis day; what though it be? O wilt thou therefore rise from me? Why should we rise, because 'tis light? Did we lie down, because 'twas night? Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither Should in despite of light keep us together.
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead, To find such numbers who will serve instead: And in whatever state a man be thrown, 'Tis that precisely they would wish their own.
Doth sickness fill my heart with fear, 'Tis sweet to know that Thou art near; Am I with dread of justice tried, 'Tis sweet to know that Christ hath died.
Tis well to be merry and wise,
'Tis well to be honest and true;
It is best to be off with the old love,
Before you are on with the new.
Tis the gift to be gentle, ’tis the gift to be fair, ’Tis the gift to wake and breathe the morning air, To walk every day in the path that we choose, Is the gift that we pray we will never never lose.
Love isn't a burst o' trumpets and a flock o' doves descendin' out o' the heavens to roost on yer heads. Tis sharin' a cup o' tea by the hearth on a cold winter's night. 'Tis the look in yer husband's eyes when ye lay yer first child in his arms. Tis the ache in yer heart when ye watch the light in his eyes dim fer the last time, and know a part o' ye has gone out o' this world with him.
Dolgan: ’Tis a wise thing to know what is wanted, and wiser still to know when ‘tis achieved. Rhuagh: True. And still wiser to know when it is unachievable, for then striving is folly.
Tis possible, young sir, that some excess Mars youthful judgment and old men's no less; Yet we must take our counsel as we may For (flying years this lesson still convey), 'Tis worst unwisdom to be overwise, And not to use, but still correct one's eyes.
This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange
That even our loves should with our fortunes change,
For 'tis a question left us yet to prove,
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune love.
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