It never will rain roses. When we want to have more roses we must plant trees.
Dust is raised while a horse is galloping .But it will never fly before the horse.
The floating clouds, is only the slave of wind, although it brings thunder and lightning.
Storms make trees take deeper roots.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.
He was like a rooster who thought the sun had risen to hear him crow.
There are many beautiful things, but the silent beauty of a flower surpasses them all.
Snow glittering like diamonds; ice delicate as lace; clouds like sails.
After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb.
Man is the only kind of varmint sets his own trap, baits it, then steps in it.
The sea's mother is the brook.
No man can tame a tiger into a kitten by stroking it.
God gives every bird his worm, but he doesn't throw it into the nest.
Each snowflake in an avalanche pleads not guilty.
We are all worms, but I do believe I am a glowworm.
Mishap is a school.
The finest bosom in nature is mot so find as what imagination forms.
The moon is a poem suspended in the sky.
翻译:
月亮是悬挂在天上的一首诗
在平静的海面上,人人都可以当舵手。
天上永远不会掉下玫瑰。想要更多的玫瑰,我们必须自己种植。
尘土在骏马飞奔时纷纷扬起,但它终究不能飞到骏马前面去。
尽管浮云有时挟雷携电,但它不过是风的奴隶。
风暴使树木深深扎根。
自然轻轻一点,便将世界连成一体。
有的人像公鸡,以为太阳是因为要听到它啼叫才升起。
世界上有许多美丽的东西,但最美的是花儿无声的美。
雪像钻石一样闪闪发光;冰像花边一样细腻;云像帆一样启航。
爬过一座大山后,你会发现还有更多的山要爬。
人是唯一自设陷阱、诱饵、然后迈进去的动物。
大海的母亲是小溪。
谁也不能通过抚摸将一只老虎变成一只小猫。
上帝会给每只小鸟虫子,但决不会扔进它们的巢里。
雪崩中的每朵雪花都不会承认自己有罪。
我们都是小虫子,但我相信我是一只萤火虫。
灾难是一所学校。
自然界最美的花朵也没不过想象中的花朵。
月亮是悬挂在天上的一首诗。
Percy Bysshe Shelley - The Cloud I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams.From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one,When rocked to rest on their mother&aposs breast,As she dances about the sun.I wield the flail of the lashing hail,And whiten the green plains under,And then again I dissolve it in rain,And laugh as I pass in thunder.I sift the snow on the mountains below,And their great pines groan aghast; And all the night&apostis my pillow white,While I sleep in the arms of the blast.Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers,Lightning, my pilot, sits; In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,It struggles and howls at fits; Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,This pilot is guiding me,Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,Over the lakes and the plains,Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,The Spirit he loves remains; And I all the while bask in Heaven&aposs blue smile,Whilst he is dissolving in rains.The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,And his burning plumes outspread,Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,When the morning star shines dead; As on the jag of a mountain crag,Which an earthquake rocks and swings,An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings.And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,Its ardors of rest and of love,And the crimson pall of eve may fall From the depth of Heaven above,With wings folded I rest, on mine aery nest,As still as a brooding dove.That orbed maiden with white fire laden,Whom mortals call the Moon,Glides glimmering o&aposer my fleece-like floor,By the midnight breezes strewn; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,Which only the angels hear,May have broken the woof of my tent&aposs thin roof,The stars peep behind her and peer; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,Like a swarm of golden bees,When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,Are each paved with the moon and these.I bind the Sun&aposs throne with a burning zone,And the Moon&aposs with a girdle of pearl; The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,Over a torrent sea,Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,-- The mountains its columns be.The triumphal arch through which I march With hurricane, fire, and snow,When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair,Is the million-colored bow; The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove,While the moist Earth was laughing below.I am the daughter of Earth and Water,And the nursling of the Sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die.For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare,And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air,I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,And out of the caverns of rain,Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,I arise and unbuild it again.。
I wrote your name on the sky but the wind blew it away. I wrote your name on the sand, but the wave washed it away. I wrote your name in my heart, and forever it will stay。