A Quote by George Herbert
A City that parlies is half gotten.
[A city that parleys is half gotten.]
Related Quotes
Born and raised in Paris, I am deeply attached to my city; we almost have half a century of love story together, where I have been truly completely faithful! The most beautiful city in the world is my city, yeepeeee!
You should've just gotten a kids' meal.” Adrian told me, pointing to my half-eaten burger and fries. “You could've saved me a lot of money. And gotten a toy.
Valour that parlies is neare yeelding.
[Valor that parleys is near yielding.]
I'm very much half city and half country boy.
I think 'Hollow City' only took a year and a half to write... but it felt like two and a half!
Arab sovereignty in Jerusalem just cannot be. This city will not be divided - not half and half, not 60-40, not 75-25, nothing.
The city is as large as Seville or Cordova; its streets, I speak of the principal ones, are very wide and straight; some of these, and all the inferior ones, are half land and half water, and are navigated by canoes.
If you've been to the city of Malmo in Sweden, or to Berlin or to Hamburg or to London or to Paris in the suburbs, or Rotterdam in my own country. You see many cities where there is a city within a city - where even today in the United Kingdom - I don't know if you're aware of that - there are even sharia courts active, whether it's rulings that the worth of a woman is half of that of a man.
There's something hypocritical about a city that keeps half of its population underground half of the time; you can start believing that there's much more space than there really is-to live, to work.
A tree there is that from its topmost bough
Is half all glittering flame and half all green
Abounding foliage moistened with the dew;
And half is half and yet is all the scene;
And half and half consume what they renew.
I see myself as half country boy and half city boy, so I need both to balance me out. I couldn't spend all of my time in either place.
It is the same in love as in war; a fortress that parleys is half taken.
Lips half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers.
Paris. City of love. City of dreams. City of splendor. City of saints and scholars. City of gaiety. Sink of iniquity.
No half measures. Some things can’t be cut in half. You can’t half-love someone. You can’t half-betray, or half-lie.
I spend half my time in Montana, the other half in New York City. In unique ways, both places help me unwind, and both are the most satisfying places to live I can imagine.
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