A Quote by Mario Cuomo

The Republicans believe that the wagon train will not make it to the frontier unless some of the old, some of the young, some of the weak are left behind. — © Mario Cuomo
The Republicans believe that the wagon train will not make it to the frontier unless some of the old, some of the young, some of the weak are left behind.
It's an old story; it's as old as our history. The difference between Democrats and Republicans has always been measured in courage and confidence. The Republicans believe that the wagon train will not make it to the frontier unless some of the old, some of the young, some of the weak, are left behind by the side of the trail. The strong, the strong they tell us, will inherit the land. We Democrats believe in something else. We Democrats believe that we can make it all the way with the whole family intact, and we have more than once.
A very young girl, myself, and my 70-year-old mother all look quite different wearing some of the same clothes from my shop. The whole secret is to know how to do it and some people never will, just like some can't make light pastry: they are lacking in some sort of grace.
True. The one certainty about riding, Braygan, is that - at some time - you will fall off. It is a fact. Another fact you might like to consider, in your life of perpetual terror, is that you will die. We are all going to die, some of us young, some of us old, some of us in our sleep, some of us screaming in agony. We cannot stop it, we can only delay it.
Unless we make revolutionary reforms, some day - in some unknown serra - some unknown Fidel Castro will rise up in Brazil.
So long as some are strong and some are weak, the weak will be driven to the wall.
We dream forever unless we awaken. We move from one dream to another, some beautiful, some we're the hero or the heroine, some horrible, some nonsensical, some boring.
How some they have died, and some they have left me, And some are taken from me; all are departed; All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves, By each let this be heard, Some do it with a bitter look, Some with a flattering word, The coward does it with a kiss, The brave man with a sword! Some kill their love when they are young, And some when they are old; Some strangle with the hands of Lust, Some with the hands of Gold: The kindest use a knife, because The dead so soon grow cold. Some love too little, some too long, Some sell, and others buy; Some do the deed with many tears, And some without a sigh: For each man kills the thing he loves, Yet each man does not die.
Women sit or move to and fro, some old, some young, / The young are beautiful--but the old are more beautiful than the young.
That's all I can do, is continue to plant the seeds; some will be trees, some will be plants, some will be bushes, some will bear fruits, some are for the season. My constant flow is to keep putting out quality and letting it get into the right hands.
The housing crisis may not be the worst thing that's happened to New York City because it was becoming impossible for some of the young doctors, for some of the young artists, for some of the people that make the city so special to be able to live here.
We had every kind of audience you could name. Young, old, not-so-old, some older than old, some younger than young: they were there, they were there! There was everything.
You are too young to know how the world changes everyday,' said Mrs Creakle, 'and how the people in it pass away. But we all have to learn it, David; some of us when we are young, some of us when we are old, some of us at all times in our lives.
I don't want nothing old but some old money. Buy me some young ideas. That's what I'm gonna do with it.
Some like them hot,some like them cold. Some like them when they're not to darn old Some like them fat,some like them lean. Some like them only at sweet sixteen. Some like them dark,some like them light. Some like them in the park,late at night. Some like them fickle,some like them true, But the time I like them is when they're like you
I know there's no heaven. I know it all turns to nothingness. But I fear there will be some remnant of me left within that void. Left conscious by some random fluke. Something that will scream out for this. That one speck of my soul will still exist and be left trapped and wanting. For you. For the light. For anything.
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