A Quote by James Whitcomb Riley

O'er folded blooms On swirls of musk, The beetle booms adown the glooms And bumps along the dusk. — © James Whitcomb Riley
O'er folded blooms On swirls of musk, The beetle booms adown the glooms And bumps along the dusk.
No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array, But winter lingering chills the lap of May; No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast, But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.
Live free or die. Four words. Thirteen letters. Ridges, bumps, swirls under my fingertips. Another story. We cling tightly to it, and our belief turns it to truth.
O'er hill and field October's glories fade; O'er hill and field the blackbirds southward fly; The brown leaves rustle down the forest glade, Where naked branches make a fitful shade, And the lost blooms of Autumn withered lie.
There is something in me maybe someday to be written; now it is folded, and folded, and folded, like a note in school.
I don't make sonic booms. I want a whip. I like the idea of walking around making sonic booms everywhere.
I love musk oil. There's something about musk that makes it memorable without being overpowering.
Any foolish boy can stamp on a beetle, but all the professors in the world cannot make a beetle.
If He put tribulation before you and said He will give you patience by giving you a little trouble along the way, wouldn't you take a little trouble? You say, 'Lord, I want all my highways paved.' the Lord says, 'I'm sorry, I can't accommodate you. I'm going to let you run over some bumps occasionally, so you will have patience.' You do not like the bumps, but you like the patience, and if you want the patience, you will have to take the bumps. And what is patience but experience?
I found a little beetle, so that beetle was his name
Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.
A beetle may or may not be inferior to a man - the matter awaits demonstration; but if he were inferior by ten thousand fathoms, the fact remains that there is probably a beetle view of things of which a man is entirely ignorant. If he wishes to conceive that point of view, he will scarcely reach it by persistently revelling in the fact that he is not a beetle.
An army of experts assured us on a daily basis that this boom couldn't possibly crash like previous booms because this boom was still going on whereas all previous booms had ended.
We all hit bumps. But we're not defined by the bumps, we're defined by how we respond to those bumps.
When the old plum tree blooms, the entire world blooms.
Lovely are the curves of the white owl sweeping Wavy in the dusk lit by one large star. Lone on the fir-branch, his rattle-note unvaried, Brooding o'er the gloom, spins the brown eve-jar.
I know when I was a kid I ate a beetle. I ate a beetle because I thought it was licorice.
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