His labor is a chant.
His idleness a tune;
Oh, for a bee's experience
Of clovers and of noon! [ Emily Dickinson ]

Oh, who would be a father! [ Holcroft ]

Go where glory waits thee;
But while fame elates thee,
Oh! still remember me. [ Moore ]

Oh, God! it is a fearful thing
To see the human soul take wing
In any shape, in any mood! [ Byron ]

Oh, no! we never mention her;
Her name is never heard;
My lips are now forbid to speak
That once familiar word. [ T. H. Bayly ]

Oh! St. Patrick was a gentleman,
Who came of decent people. [ Henry Bennett ]

Oh, frail estate of human things! [ Dryden ]

Oh, fear not in a world like this.
And thou shalt know ere long, -
Know how sublime a thing it is,
To suffer and be strong. [ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Light Of Stars ]

The poor make no new friends;
But oh, they love the better still
The few our Father sends. [ Lady Dufferin ]

Oh, may I with myself agree,
And never covet what I see.
Content me with an humble shade,
My passions tamed, my wishes laid;
For, while our wishes wildly roll.
We banish quiet from the soul.
It is thus the busy beat the air,
And misers gather wealth and care. [ Dyer ]

Yet, no - not words, for they
But half can tell love's feeling;
Sweet flowers alone can say
What passion fears revealing:
A once bright rose's wither'd leaf,
A tow'ring lily broken -
Oh, these may paint a grief
No words could ever have spoken. [ Moore ]

Hail mildly, pleasing solitude.
Companion of the wise and good,
But from whose holy, piercing eye,
The herds of fools and villains fly;
Oh! how I love with thee to walk,
And listen to thy whispered talk,
Which innocence and truth imparts,
And meets the most obdurate hearts. [ Thomson ]

Oh, no! My heart can never be
Again in lightest hopes the same;
The love that lingers there for thee
Hath more of ashes than of flame. [ Miss Landon ]

Oh, happy vantage of a kneeling knee! [ William Shakespeare ]

'Tis said that absence conquers love;
But oh! believe it not.
I've tried, alas! its power to prove,
But thou art not forgot. [ Frederick W. Thomas ]

Oh! call my brother back to me!
I cannot play alone;
The summer comes with flower and bee -
Where is my brother gone? [ Mrs. Hemans ]

Oh, how cowardly is wickedness always! [ Statius ]

Oh, if there is one thing above the rest
Written in Wisdom - if there is a word
That I would trace as with a pen of fire
Upon the unsullied temper of a child —
If there is anything that keeps the mind
Open to angel visits, and repels
The ministry of ill - It is Love. [ N. P. Willis ]

Oh, Love! no habitant of earth thou art -
An unseen seraph, we believe in thee. [ Byron ]

Oh! in that future let us think
To hold each heart the heart that shares;
With them the immortal waters drink,
And, soul in soul, grow deathless theirs! [ Byron ]

Oh, say! what is that thing called light,
Which I must never enjoy?
What are the blessings of the sight?
Oh, tell your poor blind boy! [ Colley Cibber ]

Oh! never breathe a dead one's name,
When those who loved that one are nigh;
It pours a lava through the frame
That chokes the breast and fills the eye. [ Eliza Cook ]

Oh, only a free soul will never grow old! [ Jean Paul Richter ]

Oh, how this spring of life resembleth
The uncertain glory of an April day.
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
And, by and by, a cloud takes all away! [ William Shakespeare ]

Oh! roses and lilies are fair to see;
But the wild bluebell is the flower for me. [ Louisa A. Meredith ]

Oh! that a dream so sweet, so long enjoy'd,
Should be so sadly, cruelly destroy'd! [ Moore ]

Oh! I have pass'd a miserable night.
So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams.
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days. [ William Shakespeare ]

Oh, be my friend, and teach me to be thine! [ Emerson ]

Oh, that mine adversary had written a book. [ Job ]

Oh! I will curse thee til! thy frighted soul
Runs mad with horror. [ Lee ]

Oh, could we lift the future's sable shroud. [ Bailey ]

Oh, my offence is rank; it smells to heaven. [ William Shakespeare ]

Oh world, as God has made it! All is beauty:
And knowing this, is love, and love is duty. [ Browning ]

Oh, love forever lost,
And with it faith gone out! what is't remains
But duty, though the path be rough and trod
By bruised and bleeding feet? [ Lewis Morris ]

Oh, that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter. [ William Shakespeare, Hamlet ]

Oh, flatter me; for love delights in praises. [ William Shakespeare ]

Around her shone
The nameless charms unmark'd by her alone.
The light of love, the purity of grace,
The mind, the music breathing from her face.
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole,
And, oh! that eye was in itself a soul. [ Byron ]

It is time enough to cry Oh! when you are hurt. [ Proverb ]

That I might live alone once with my gold!
Oh 't is a sweet companion I kind and true!
A man may trust it, when his father cheats him,
Brother, or friend, or wife. O wondrous pelf.
That which makes all men false, is true itself. [ Jonson ]

Oh! Nature's noblest gift - my graygoose quill! [ Byron ]

These taught us how to live; and (oh, too high
The price for knowledge!) taught us how to die. [ Thomas Tickell ]

Oh, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength, but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant. [ William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure ]

Oh! the pain of pains
Is when the fair one, whom our soul is fond of,
Gives transport, and receives it from another. [ Young ]

Oh, greatness! thou art but a flattering dream,
A watery bubble, lighter than the air. [ Tracy ]

Oh! thou gentle scene
Of Sweet repose; where by the oblivious draught
Of each sad toilsome day to peace restor'd.
Unhappy mortals lose their woes awhile. [ Thomson ]

Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great.
Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint. [ William Shakespeare ]

Oh, the heart is a free and a fetterless thing--
A wave of the ocean, a bird on the wing. [ J. Pardoe ]

Oh, rare the headpiece, if but brains were there! [ Phaedrus ]

Oh! nature's noblest gift - my grey goosed quill:
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
That mighty instrument of little men! [ Byron ]

Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried? [ Byron ]

And then her look - Oh, where's the heart so wise
Could, unbewilder'd, meet those matchless eyes?
Quick, restless, strange, but exquisite withal.
Like those of angels. [ Moore ]

Oh, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once!
To prison, eyes, never look on liberty!
Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;
And thou and Romeo press one heavy bier! [ William Shakespeare ]

Oh! liberty, thou goddess, heavenly bright.
Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight!
Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign.
And smiling plenty, leads thy wanton train;
Eased of her load, subjection grows more light
And poverty looks cheerful in the sight;
Thou makest the gloomy face of nature gay,
Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day. [ Addison ]

Oh! Why should the spirit of mortal be proud?
Like a swift-fleeting meteor, a fast flying cloud,
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave,
Man passes from life to his rest in the grave. [ Wm. Knox ]

Oh! if there be, on this earthly sphere,
A boon, an offering heaven holds dear,
'Tis the last libation Liberty draws
From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause. [ Moore ]

Why dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit,
Or what is worse, be left by it?
Why dost thou load thyself when thou 'rt to fly.
Oh, man! ordained to die?
Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high,
Thou who art under ground to lie?
Thou sow'st and plantest, but no fruit must see.
For death, alas! is reaping thee. [ Cowley ]

Oh, Love, how perfect is thy mystic art,
Strengthening the weak, and trampling on the strong! [ Byron ]

Yes - it was love - if thoughts of tenderness.
Tried in temptation, strengthened by distress,
Unmoved by absence, firm in every clime,
And yet - oh more than all! - untired by time.
Which nor defeated hope, nor baffled wile,
Could render sullen were she near to smile,
Nor rage could fire, nor sickness fret to vent
On her one murmur of his discontent;
Which still would meet with joy, with calmness part.
Lest that his look of grief should reach her heart;
Which nought removed, nor menaced to remove -
If there be love in mortals— this was love! [ Byron ]

Oh, that I were as happy as I am clear in conscience. [ Ovid ]

Oh, help thou my weak wit, and sharpen my dull tongue! [ Spenser ]

Oh! he thou blest with all that Heaven can send.
Long health, long youth, long pleasure - and a friend. [ Pope ]

Oh, that deceit should dwell in sucb a gorgeous palace! [ William Shakespeare ]

If a daughter you have, she's the plague of your life,
No peace shall you know though you've buried your wife!
At twenty she mocks at the duty you taught her -
Oh, what a plague is an obstinate daughter! [ Sheridan ]

Oh! save me, ye powers, from these pinks of the nation,
These tea-table heroes! these lords of creation. [ Salmagundi ]

Around her shone The light of love, the purity of grace.
The mind, the music breathing from her face;
The heart whose softness harmonized the whole;
And, oh! that eye was in itself a soul! [ Byron ]

Twine round thee threads of steel, like thread on thread,
That grow to fetters, or bind down thy arms
With chains concealed in chaplets. Oh, not yet
Mayst thou embrace thy corselet, nor lay by
Thy sword; not yet, O Freedom, close thy lids
In slumber; for thine enemy never sleeps.
And thou must watch and combat till the day
Of the new earth and heaven. [ Bryant ]

There's a charm in delivery, a magical art,
That thrills like a kiss from the lip to the heart;
It is the glance - the expression - the well-chosen word -
By whose magic the depths of the spirit are stirred.
The lip's soft persuasion - its musical tone:
Oh! such were the charms of that eloquent one! [ Mrs. Welby ]

Call me pet names, dearest! Call me thy bird.
That flies to thy breast at one cherishing word,
That folds its wild wings there, ne'er dreaming of flight.
That tenderly sings there in loving delight!
Oh! my sad heart keeps pining for one fond word,
Call me pet names, dearest! Call me thy bird! [ Mrs. Osgood ]

Maid of Athens, ere we part, Give, oh, give me back my heart! [ Byron ]

Oh! how seldom the soul is silent, in order that God may speak. [ Fenelon ]

Oh, let us fill our hearts up with the glory of the day
And banish every doubt and care and sorrow far away!
For the world is full of roses and the roses full of dew,
And the dew is full of heavenly love that drips for me and you.
[ James Whitcomb Riley ]

I'll seek a four-leaved shamrock in all the fairy dells,
And if I find the charmed leaves, oh, how I'll weave my spells! [ Samuel Lover ]

Teach him how to live, And, oh? still harder lesson! how to die. [ Bishop Porteus ]

Oh! how many torments lie in the small circle of a wedding ring. [ Colley Cibber ]

Oh, give me thy hand, one writ with me in sour misfortune's book- [ William Shakespeare ]

Oh, what may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side! [ William Shakespeare ]

Oh, how sweet it is to hear our own conviction from another's lips! [ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe ]

But, oh! fell Death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower sae early. [ Burns ]

Oh! it is deplorable to behold neglect aiding in the triumph of decay. [ J. Linen ]

Oh that simplicity and innocence its own unvalued work so seldom knows! [ Shelley ]

Oh for a muse of fire that would ascend the highest heaven of invention! [ William Shakespeare ]

I pray God that I may never find my will again.
Oh, that Christ would subject my will to His, and trample it under His feet. [ Rutherford ]

Oh, the little more, and how much it is! and the little less, and what worlds away! [ Browning ]

Oh! let me live forever on those lips! The nectar of the gods to these is tasteless. [ Dryden ]

I clasp thy waist, I feel thy bosom's beat - oh, kiss me into faintness sweet and dim! [ Alexander Smith ]

Oh, poor hearts of poets, eager for the infinite in love, will you never be understood. [ Mme. Louise Colet ]

A book! oh, rare one! be not, as in this fangled world, a garment nobler than it covers. [ William Shakespeare ]

How sweet, though lifeless, yet with life to lie; and without dying, oh, how sweet to die! [ John Wolcott ]

Oh, never will I trust to speeches penned! * * * taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, three-piled hyperboles. [ William Shakespeare ]

Oh, fair undress, best dress! It checks no vein, but every flowing limb in pleasure drowns, and heightens ease with grace. [ Thomson ]

Beneath her drooping lashes slept a world of eloquent meaning; passionate but pure, dreamy, subdued, but, oh, how beautiful! [ Mrs. Osgood ]

Oh, how a small portion of earth will hold us when we are dead, who ambitiously seek after the whole world while we are living! [ Philip, King of Macedon ]

Oh, that estates, degrees, and offices were not derived corruptly, and that clear honor were purchased by the merit of the wearer! [ William Shakespeare ]

Oh, brother wearers of motley, are there not moments when one grows sick of grinning and trembling and the jingling of cap and bells? [ Thackeray ]

What a pity flowers can utter no sound! A singing rose, a whispering violet, a murmuring honeysuckle - oh, what a rare and exquisite miracle would these be! [ Beecher ]

Oh, but books are such safe company! They keep your secrets well; they never boast that they made your eyes glisten, or your cheek flush, or your heart throb. [ Mrs. S. P. Parton ]

And the prettiest foot; Oh, if a man could but fasten his eyes to her feet as they steal in and out, and play at bo-peep under her petticoats, Ah! Mr. Trapland? [ Congreve ]

Oh! why is daily bread indispensable to the poet and to the artist! This inexorable necessity darkens for them the joys of nature and the radiations of the beautiful. [ Mme. Louise Colet ]

Oh, if the loving, closed heart of a good woman should open before a man, how much controlled tenderness, how many veiled sacrifices and dumb virtues, would be seen reposing there! [ Richter ]

Oh! woe to him who first had the cruelty to ridicule the name of old maid, a name which recalls so many sorrowful deceptions, so many sufferings, so much destitution! Woe to him who finds a target for his sarcasm in an involuntary misfortune, and who crowns white hair with thorns! [ E. Souvestre ]

We mortals, men and women, devour many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner time; keep back the tears, and look a little pale about the lips, and in answer to inquiries say, Oh, nothing! Pride helps us; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide our own hurts, not to hurt others. [ George Eliot ]

There is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There is a remembrance of the dead to which we turn even from the charms of the living. Oh, the grave! the grave! It buries every error, covers every defect, extinguishes every resentment. From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections. [ Washington Irving ]

Oh, my dear friends, - you who are letting miserable misunderstandings run on from year to year, meaning to clear them up some day, - if you only could know and see and feel that the time is short, how it would break the spell! How you would go instantly and do the thing which you might never have another chance to do! [ Phillips Brooks ]

The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion! The fashion that came in with our first garments, and will last unchanged until our race has run its course, and the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old fashion, - Death! Oh, thank God, all who see it, for that older fashion yet, - of Immortality! [ Charles Dickens ]

The little flower which sprung up through the hard payment of poor Picciola's prison, was beautiful from contrast with the dreary sterility which surrounded it. So here, amid the rough walls, are there fresh tokens of nature; and oh, the beautiful lessons which flowers teach to children, especially in the city! The child's mind can grasp with ease the delicate suggestions of flowers. [ E. H. Chapin ]

You can throw yourselves away. You can become of no use in the universe except for a warning. You can lose your souls. Oh, what a loss is that! The perversion and degradation of every high and immortal power for an eternity! And shall this be true of any one of you? Will you be lost when One has come from heaven, traveling in the greatness of His strength, and with garments dyed in blood, on purpose to guide you home - home to a Father's house - to an eternal home? [ Mark Hopkins ]

Once when I was in Hawaii, on the island of Kauai, I met a mysterious old stranger. He said he was about to die and wanted to tell someone about the treasure. I said, Okay, as long as it's not a long story. Some of us have a plane to catch, you know. He started telling his story, about the treasure and his life and all, and I thought: This story isn't too long. But then, he kept going, and I started thinking, Uh-oh, this story is getting long. But then the story was over, and I said to myself: You know, that story wasn't too long after all. I forget what the story was about, but there was a good movie on the plane. It was a little long, though. [ Jack Handey, Deep Thoughts ]

My friends, if you had but the power of looking into the future you might see that great things may come of little things. There is the great ocean, holding the navies of the world, which comes from little drops of water no larger than a woman's tears. There are the great constellations in the sky, made up of little bits of stars. Oh, if you could consider his future you might see that he might become the greatest poet of the universe, the greatest warrior the world has ever known, greater than Caesar, than Hannibal, than--er--er" (turning to the father) - What's his name? The father hesitated, then whispered back: His name? Well, his name is Mary Ann. [ Mark Twain, Educations and Citizenship ]

I was walking in the street, a beggar stopped me, — a frail old man. His inflamed, tearful eyes, blue lips, rough rags, disgusting sores . . . oh, how horribly poverty had disfigured the unhappy creature! He stretched out to me his red, swollen, filthy hand. He groaned and whimpered for alms. I felt in all my pockets. No purse, watch, or handkerchief did I find. I had left them all at home. The beggar waited and his out-stretched hand twitched and trembled slightly. Embarrassed and confused, I seized his dirty hand and pressed it. Don't be vexed with me, brother; I have nothing with me, brother. The beggar raised his bloodshot eyes to mine; his blue lips smiled, and he returned the pressure of my chilled fingers. Never mind, brother, stammered he; thank you for this — this, too, was a gift, brother. I felt that I, too, had received a gift from my brother. [ Ivan Tourgueneff ]