A Quote by Richard Henry Horne
'Tis always morning somewhere in the world
Related Quotes
Tis always morning somewhere.
'Tis always morning somewhere, and aboveThe awakening continents, from shore to shore,Somewhere the birds are singing evermore.
Tis the gift to be gentle, ’tis the gift to be fair, ’Tis the gift to wake and breathe the morning air, To walk every day in the path that we choose, Is the gift that we pray we will never never lose.
Tis light translateth night; 'tis inspiration Expounds experience; 'tis the west explains The east; 'tis time unfolds Eternity.
Tis a morning pure and sweet, And a dewy splendour falls On the little flower that clings To the turrets and the walls; 'Tis a morning pure and sweet, And the light and shadow fleet; She is walking in the meadow, And the woodland echo rings; In a moment we shall meet; She is singing in the meadow, And the rivulet at her feet Ripples on in light and shadow To the ballad that she sings.
It's never too late for a coffee. After all it's morning somewhere in the world.
Tis well to borrow from the good and the great; 'Tis wise to learn: 'tis God-like to create!
And O there are days in this life, worth life and worth death. And O what a bright old song it is, that O 'tis love, 'tis love, 'tis love that makes the world go round!
Somewhere in the world is a doctor who is worse than all other doctors...and someone has an appointment with him in the morning.
I like the idea about somewhere there being a world... somewhere there's a world that I don't know about. But also, that somewhere, there was once something that disappeared.
Morning ... 'tis Nature's gayest hour!
Every little detail of my life is, and has always been, surrounded by fashion - from the cup I drink my coffee from in the morning to my constant travels - fashion always pops up somewhere and somehow.
Oh, 'tis love, 'tis love that makes the world go round.
Capitalism does what it does and money doesn't belong to anybody. It just stays in someone's wallet for a while, then it goes somewhere else. It always goes somewhere and it is always about to go somewhere.
I just love writing. It's magical, it's somewhere else to go, it's somewhere much more dreadful, somewhere much more exciting. Somewhere I feel I belong, possibly more than in the so-called real world.
I have always been delighted at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.
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