A Quote by John Milton
As in an organ from one blast of wind
To many a row of pipes the soundboard breathes.
Related Quotes
May be the truth is, that one pipe is wholesome, two pipes toothsome, three pipes noisome, four pipes fulsome, five pipes quarrelsome; and that's the some on't.
There's an east wind coming all the same, such a wind as never blew on England yet. It will be cold and bitter, Watson, and a good many of us may wither before its blast. But it's God's own wind none the less and a cleaner, better stronger land will lie in the sunshine when the storm has cleared.
Row after row with strict impunity
The headstones yield their names to the element,
The wind whirrs without recollection.
The true motives of our actions, like the real pipes of an organ, are usually concealed; but the gilded and hollow pretext is pompously placed in the front for show.
On good days, I've done bubbles with as many as 38 faces - a row of pentagons, a row of hexagons, and another row of pentagons on bottom.
There are certain things that you can blast through a stereo. You can blast hip-hop. You can blast heavy metal. You can't blast 'All Things Considered.'
I love working with crews. Filming the 'Fred' movie, for example, was a blast. You get to be around so many creative, talented people all day, so it's a blast.
Awards are wonderful. I've been nominated many times and I've won many awards. But my journey is not towards that. If it happens it will be a blast. If it doesn't, it's still been a blast.
To realize the promise of 5G, we will need smart networks, not dumb pipes. Dumb pipes won't deliver smart cities. Dumb pipes won't enable millions of connected, self-driving cars to navigate the roads safely at the same time.
I wrote and directed a movie called 'Two - Bit Waltz'. We just wrapped. It was a blast, blast, blast.
The wind breathes not, and the wave
Walks softly as above a grave.
Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise.
Night fell clean and cold in Dublin, and wind moaned beyond my room as if a million pipes played the air.
So many gods, so many creeds, so many paths that wind and wind while just the art of being kind is all the sad world needs.
O Music! Miraculous art! A blast of thy trumpet and millions rush forward to die; a peal of thy organ and uncounted nations sink down to pray.
I played the organ when I went to military school, when I was 10. They had a huge organ, the second-largest pipe organ in New York State. I loved all the buttons and the gadgets. I've always been a gadget man.
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