Quotes about sheep
Real education must ultimately be limited to men who insist on knowing. The rest is mere sheep-herding.
In a distant land many years ago, there lived a black sheep. It was executed by firing squad. A century later, the grieving flock erected an equestrian statue in honor of the slain sheep that looked very nice in the park. In the years that followed, every time a black sheep appeared, it was executed so that ordinary sheep could practice sculpture.
"Man's inhumanity to man" is not the last word. The truth lies deeper. It is economic slavery, the savage struggle for a crumb, that has converted mankind into wolves and sheep.
Canto the Fourth
Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning
The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend,
Like Lucifer when hurl'd from heaven for sinning;
Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend,
Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far,
Till our own weakness shows us what we are.
But Time, which brings all beings to their level,
And sharp Adversity, will teach at last
Man, -- and, as we would hope, -- perhaps the devil,
That neither of their intellects are vast:
While youth's hot wishes in our red veins revel,
We know not this -- the blood flows on too fast;
But as the torrent widens towards the ocean,
We ponder deeply on each past emotion.
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Pleasures of Fields and Gardens
Spring a tangle of wildflowers and grasses lush and fragrant,
summer cool shade beneath thick pines towering everywhere:
oxen and sheep return on their own, wandering village lanes,
and for children here, robes of high office don't mean a thing.
In order to form an immaculate member of a flock of sheep one must, above all, be a sheep.
'Tis Eve on the Hillside
'Tis eve on the hillside, the bagpipes are distantly wailing,
Flocks going homewards, and stars o'er the firmament sailing,
Sound of the bubbling spring sorrow's legend narrating,
And beneath a tall willow for me, dear one, you are waiting.
The wandering moon up the heavens her journey is wending,
Big-eyed you watch through the boughs her gold lantern ascending,
Now over the dome of the sky all the planets are gleaming,
And heavy your breast with its longing, your brow with its dreaming.
Cornfields bright flooded with beams by the clouds steeply drifted,
Old cottage gables of thatch to the moonlight uplifted,
The tall wooden arm of the well in the wind softly grating,
And the shepherd-boy's pipe from the sheep-pen sad "doina" relating.
The peasants, their scythes on their backs, from their labour are coming,
The sound of the "toaca" its summons more loudly is drumming,
While the clang of the village church bell fills the evening entire,
And with longing for you like a faggot my soul is on fire.
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A Life Encounter in Shekomeko
Many a rides I have taken
Through villages barely awakened
Green grass and blooming flowers
Whispering willows at morning hours
My joy is never ending
Too many wondrous sights are blending
Into meadows and sleepy lanes
Sheep and cattle gleaming white fences
Leave bedazzled my senses
But there is no pretense
Driving through the village
I have never seen a Mensch
But what a surprise on that beautiful day
I will never forget that moment in May
Strutting the left side of the lane
Was Peacock proud and vain
He walked with a majestic stride
Gleaming feathers what a sight
Straight ahead was his gaze
After all Shekomeko was his place
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If someone wants a sheep, then that means that he exists.
The conception of two people living together for twenty-five years without having a cross word suggests a lack of spirit only to be admired in sheep.
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