A Quote by Henry Ward Beecher

Hope is sweet-minded and sweet-eyed. It draws pictures; it weaves fancies; it fills the future with delight. — © Henry Ward Beecher
Hope is sweet-minded and sweet-eyed. It draws pictures; it weaves fancies; it fills the future with delight.
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 blue and bright-eyed floweret of the brook, Hope's gentle gem, the sweet Forget-me-not.
Oh! don't you remember sweet Alice, Ben Bolt, Sweet Alice, whose hair was so brown, Who wept with delight when you gave her a smile, And trembled with fear at your frown?
If you have a sweet tooth, you'll have a sweet mouth when you're done, because all your teeth are going to be sweet.
Sweet is the breath of vernal shower,/ The bee's collected treasure sweet,/ Sweet music's melting fall, but sweeter yet/ The still small voice of gratitude.
Sweetness! World needs sweetness! It needs a sweet child, a sweet dolphin, a sweet monkey; it needs sweet people to soften the callous hearts!
Life was sweet. Even when it was bad, there was always the hope of better...the future.
Hope is sweet. Hope is illumining. Hope is fulfilling. Hope can be everlasting. Therefore, do not give up hope, Even in the sunset of your life.
How sweet, how passing sweet, is solitude! But grant me still a friend in my retreat, whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet.
What fills us is real, sweet, dopey, funny life.
Kittens are wide-eyed, soft and sweet. With needles in their jaws and feet.
Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
O sweet woods, the delight of solitariness!
There's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise a wind on the heath. Life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?
Sweet Phosphor, bring the dayWhose conquering rayMay chase these fogs;Sweet Phosphor, bring the day!Sweet Phosphor, bring the day!Light will repayThe wrongs of night;Sweet Phosphor, bring the day!
The soul of sweet delight, can never be defiled.
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