A Quote by Edouard Rene de Laboulaye

Words are naught but wind, and the fairest promises like dreams that take flight with the morning. — © Edouard Rene de Laboulaye
Words are naught but wind, and the fairest promises like dreams that take flight with the morning.
When I meet a wind I cannot fight , I can do naught but set my sails to let it take me where it will.
We came in the wind of the carnival. A wind of change, or promises. The merry wind, the magical wind, making March hares of everyone, tumbling blossoms and coat-tails and hats; rushing towards summer in a frenzy of exuberance.
Some people take better care of their pets than they do themselves. Their animals can run like the wind and they can barely make it up a flight of stairs.
The morning wind spreads its fresh smell. We must get up and take that in, that wind that lets us live. Breathe before it's gone.
Some gave me soft words and some blunt, some made excuses, some promises, some only lied. In the end words are just wind.
Creatures with no dreams of their own can do naught but destroy the dreams of others.
May you find in the nectar of life, the sweetness of hope in your heart, feel the comfort of song birds in your soul, the grace of new wind in your wings. Color you sprirt with rainbows and shower gold dust in your hair. Time heals. Life renews. Dreams take flight agian. close you eyes and drink it all in.
I think it is an immutable law in business that words are words, explanations are explanations, promises are promises, but only performance is reality
It is an immutable law in business that words are words, explanations are explanations, promises are promises-but only performance is reality.
It seems like in the beginning of my flight, the space dreams were rare. And now, almost 150 days into it, the Earth dreams are more of the rare ones.
The white man has settled like a locust over Africa, and, like the locusts in early morning, cannot take flight for the heaviness of the dew on their wings. But the dew that weights the white man is the money that he makes from our labor.
Oft morning-dreams presage approaching fate; And morning -dreams, as poets tell, are true, Led by pale ghosts, I enter Death's dark gate, And bid the realms of light and life adieu.
Tell them you came, and saw, and looked into my eyes and saw the shadow of the guard receding. Thoughts in time and out of season, the hitchinker stood by the side of the road and levelled his thumb in the calm calculus of reason. [...] Why does my mind circle around you? Why do planets wonder what it would be like to be you? All your soft wild promises were words, birds, endlessly in flight.
Real flight and dreams of flight go together. Both are part of the same movement. Not A before B, but all together.
Satan promises the best, but pays with the worst; he promises honor, and pays with disgrace; he promises pleasure, and pays with pain; he promises profit, and pays with loss, he promises life, and pays with death. But God pays as he promises; all his payments are made in pure gold.
The old studios that mass-produced dreams are gone with the wind, just like the old downtown theaters that were the temples of the dreams.
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