A Quote by George Herbert

Sweet discourse makes short daies and nights.
[Sweet discourse makes short days and nights.] — © George Herbert
Sweet discourse makes short daies and nights. [Sweet discourse makes short days and nights.]
Nights, sweet as they, Made short by lovers play, Yet long by the absence of the day.
Architecture is a discourse; everything is a discourse. Fashion discourse is actually a micro-discourse, because it's centered around the body. It is the most rapidly developing form of discourse.
Hence, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights Wherein you spend your folly! There's naught in this life sweet But only melancholy; O sweetest melancholy!
I feel like the ideal length is three months. I go short and sweet on the engagement. I did have a longish engagement, but I think short and sweet is best.
I go short and sweet on the engagement. I did have a longish engagement, but I think short and sweet is best.
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.
The public discourse on global warming has little in common with the standards of scientific discourse. Rather, it is part of political discourse where comments are made to secure the political base and frighten the opposition rather than to illuminate issues. In political discourse, information is to be 'spun' to reinforce pre-existing beliefs, and to discourage opposition.
Oh, time is short and the days are sweet and passion rules the arrow that flies.
Let your Discourse with Men of Business be Short and Comprehensive.
I remembered my days and nights of sunshine and starshine, where life was all a wild sweet wonder, a spiritual paradise of unselfish adventure and ethical romance. And I saw before me, ever blazing and burning, the Holy Grail.
Mine is the time of foliage, When hills and valleys teem With buds and vines sweet scented, All clothed in glowing green. My nights are bright and starry, My days are long and clear And truly I'm the fairest, Of all months in the year.
I feel like I've had bad nights or destructive nights or nights where I don't remember anything or nights where I was seriously injured or seriously in danger. And I remained nihilistic and unconcerned because it felt like there was no alternative.
Maine out of season is unmistakably a great destination: hospitable, good-humored, plenty of elbow room, short days, dark nights of crackling ice crystals.
A travel agent told I could spend 7 nights in HAWAII no days just nights.
All nights are sacred nights to make confession and resolve and prayer; all days are sacred days to wake new gladness in the sunny air.
Then I speak to her in a language she has never heard, I speak to her in Spanish, in the tongue of the long, crepuscular verses of Díaz Casanueva; in that language in which Joaquín Edwards preaches nationalism. My discourse is profound; I speak with eloquence and seduction; my words, more than from me, issue from the warm nights, from the many solitary nights on the Red Sea, and when the tiny dancer puts her arm around my neck, I understand that she understands. Magnificent language!
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