Quotes About Maiden

I sing of a maidenThat is makeless;King of all kingsTo her son she ches.

This is the farmer sowing the corn,That kept the cock that crowed in the morn,That waked the priest all shaven and shorn,That married the man all tattered and torn,That kissed the maiden all forlorn,That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,That tossed the dogThat worried the catThat killed the ratThat ate the maltThat lay in the house that Jack built.

Some were popular sex symbols: graffiti from the first century AD have been found on walls in Pompeii—one Thracian gladiator was "the maiden's prayer and delight" and "the doctor to cure girls." Their images appeared on pots and dishes.

There is a matter on my conscience which I cannot excuse but may as well confess. To deceive a maiden is a very sore thing, so sore that it had made us all hot against Constantine; but it may be doubted by a cool mind whether it is worse, nay, whether it is not more venial than to contrive the murder of a lawful wife. Poets have paid more attention to the first offence – maybe they know more about it – the law finds greater employment, on the whole, in respect to the second.

'Pump' was my first song.

I chucked my CA final exams to pursue modeling. My parents objected to this, but they soon came around. And after seeing my maiden movie Tum Bin, they were happy beyond words!

I think the theme of the album probably was just that it was our first record.

The day of battle dawned pink as the fresh-bitten thigh of a maiden.

Spanish rain, A maiden's dress, Apothecary pills And ancient thrills; Melancholy kills A girl's caress.

These things resemble love. A warmhearted youth becomes strongly attached to a maiden: he spends every hour of the day in her company, wears out his health, and lavishes his fortune, to afford continual proof that he is wholly devoted to her.

Ye generous maids, revenge your sex's wrong; Let not the mean destroyer e'er approach Your sacred charms. Now muster all your pride, Contempt and scorn, that, shot from Beauty's eye, Confounds the mighty impudent, and smites The front unknown to shame.

Say maiden wilt thou go with meIn this strange death of life-to-beTo live in death and be the sameWithout this life or home or nameAt once to be and not to be

Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude And fled to the silence of sweet solitude. Where the flower in green darkness buds, blossoms, and fades, Unseen of all shepherds and flower-loving maids— The hermit bees find them but once and away. There I'll bury alive and in silence decay.

A Babe on the breast of a Maiden he lies, Yet sits with the Father on high in the skies; Before him their faces the Seraphim hide, While Joseph stands waiting, unscared, by his side. . . . O wonder of wonders, which none can unfold, The Ancient of Days is an hour or two old; The Maker of all things is made of the earth, Man is worshiped by Angels, and God comes to birth.

A loving maiden grows unconsciously more bold.

Sensationalists miss divinity for just that reason: the true religion is always unspectacular. The foolish virgins go to buy oil for their lamps, and when they come back, they find the Bridegroom already returned. And the door closed. It was so undramatic. A beautiful maiden knocks at the door of an inn, and an innkeeper tells her there is no room. Into a stable she enters, and there a child is born. It was God's entrance into the world. But it was so undramatic.

I decided to drop it since he liked it so much. But I glanced at it first, and then I couldn't. I held a porcelain castle no bigger than my two fists, with six wee towers, each ending in a miniature candle holder. And oh! Strung between a window in each of two towers was a gossamer thread of china from which hung-laundry! A man's hose, a robe, a baby's pinafore, all thin as a spider's web. And, painted in a window downstairs, a smiling maiden waved a silken scarf.

There's a first time for everything when I'm involved.

A maiden-woman, as independent as myself, need not envy any girl the doubtful blessing of a husband. I chose to be independent, and I am, and what more is there to be said about it?

I LEFT, to earth, a little maiden fair, With locks of gold, and eyes that shamed the light; I prayed that God might have her in His care And sight. Earth's love was false; her voice, a siren's song; (Sweet mother-earth was but a lying name) The path she showed was but the path of wrong And shame. "Cast her not out!" I cry. God's kind words come -- - "Her future is with Me, as was her past; It shall be My good will to bring her home At last.

What an old maid I'm getting to be. lacking the courage to be in love with death!

Even a man who courts a maid thinking he has no rivals has one, and that one is herself. She may give herself to him, but she may also choose to keep herself for herself. He has to convince her that she will be happier with him than by herself, and though men convince maids of that often, it isn't often true.

Another Sin of Lechery is to bereave a Maiden of her maidenhead, for he who does so, certainly, casts a Maiden out of the highest degree that exists in this present life, and deprives her of that precious fruit that the Book calls the "Hundred Fruits." I can not say it in any other way in English, but in Latin it is called Centesimus fructus.

That mysterious change is too subtle and too gradual to be measured by dates. Least of all does the maiden herself know it until the tone of a voice or the touch of a hand sets her heart thrilling within her, and she learns, with a mixture of pride and of fear, that a new and a larger nature has awoke within her. There are few who cannot recall that day and remember the one little incident which heralded the dawn of a new life.