A Quote by Richard Whately

Woman is like the reed which bends to every breeze, but breaks not in the tempest. — © Richard Whately
Woman is like the reed which bends to every breeze, but breaks not in the tempest.
The green reed which bends in the wind is stronger than the mighty oak which breaks in a storm.
The willow which bends to the tempest often escapes better than the oak which resists it.
A man of feeble character resembles a reed that bends with every gust of wind.
He who stands like a pilar dies in battle. He who bends like a reed is triumphant!
Caught between glass and wood, that which breaks and that which bends, that which sings and that which survive. So our lives go.
There are two kinds of weakness, that which breaks and that which bends.
To protect ourselves against the storms of passion, marriage with a woman is a harbor in the tempest; but with a bad woman it is a tempest in the harbor.
The willow which bends to the tempest, often escapes better than the oak which resists it; and so in great calamities, it sometimes happens that light and frivolous spirits recover their elasticity and presence of mind sooner than those of a loftier character.
Innovation opportunities do not come with the tempest but with the rustling of the breeze.
God in his harmony has equal ends For cedar that resists and reed that bends; For good it is a woman sometimes rules, Holds in her hand the power, and manners, schools, And laws, and mind; succeeding master proud, With gentle voice and smiles she leads the crowd, The somber human troop.
I think the years on 'The Donna Reed Show,' the years from 14 to 19, were so incredibly important. Donna Reed was simply an extraordinary woman, a woman of great strength, kindness, integrity and compassion. I am not trying to make her sound like a saint, but she had the most profound influence on me. I carry her with me today.
The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze.
A beautiful woman without fixed principles may be likened to those fair but rootless flowers which float in streams, driven by every breeze.
A storm breaks trees. It only bends grass.
By ecstasy I mean inner joyousness, and by inner joyousness I mean those inspirational fires which burn within the consciousness of great geniuses, fires which give to them an inconquerable vitality of spirit which breaks down all barriers as wheat bends before the wind.
The heart of a woman falls back with the night, / And enters some alien cage in its plight, / And tries to forget it has dreamed of the stars / While it breaks, breaks, breaks on the sheltering bars.
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