| "Nothing can be pleasing which is not also becoming." »Quintilian |
| "Perhaps even these things, one day, will be pleasing to remember." »Virgil |
| "The devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape." »William Shakespeare |
| "Nothing is more pleasing and engaging than the sense of having conferred benefits. Not even the gratification of receiving them." »Ellis Peters |
| "To all, to each, a fair good night, And pleasing dreams, and slumbers light." »Sir Walter Scott |
| "Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit (Perhaps it will be pleasing sometime to have remembered these things, from The Aeneid)" »Virgil |
| "The reflections on a day well spent furnish us with joys more pleasing than ten thousand triumphs." »Thomas a Kempis |
| "I believe that one of the great problems for us as individuals is the depression and the tension resulting from existence in a world which is increasingly less pleasing to the eye." »Claudia Alta Taylor Johnson |
| "One of the most effectual ways of pleasing and of making one's self loved is to be cheerful joy softens more hearts than tears do." »Mme. de Sartory |
| "Every man ... should periodically be compelled to listen to opinions which are infuriating to him. To hear nothing but what is pleasing to one is to make a pillow of the mind." »John Ervine |
| "Some people lose all respect for the lion unless he devours them instantly. There is no pleasing some people." »Will Cuppy |
| "Wine makes a man more pleased with himself I do not say that it makes him more pleasing to others." »Samuel Johnson |
| "I despise the pleasure of pleasing people that I despise." »Mary Wortley Montagu |
| "The best way to sell yourself to others is first to sell the others to yourself. Check yourself against this list of obstacles to a pleasing personality interrupting others sarcasm vanity being a poor listener insincere flattery finding fault challenging others without good cause giving unsolicited advice complaining attitude of superiority envy of others' success poor posture and dress." »Unknown |
| "Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,-- Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun." »William Shakespeare |
| BTW, Why won't you become an editor? |
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