A man's walking is a succession of falls. [ Proverb ]
It is good walking with a horse in one's hand. [ English Proverb, collected by George Herbert ]
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more! It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing. [ William Shakespeare, Macbeth ]
Walk not with the world where it is walking wrong. [ Carlyle ]
Man's walk, like all walking, is a series of falls. [ Carlyle ]
Style seems to depend on three things:
1. a mental attitude and character,
2. a familiarity with the best authors,
3. dexterity in the use of words, acquired by constant practice.
So we must learn to speak by speaking, as we learn to walk by walking, or to dance by dancing. [ John Stuart Blackie, The Art Of Authorship, 1891 ]
Do not ask if a man has been through college. Ask if a college has been through him; if he is a walking university. [ Chapin ]
Under the shadow of earthly disappointment, all unconscious to ourselves, our Divine Redeemer is walking by our side. [ E. H. Chapin ]
I love to lose myself in other men's minds. When I am not walking, I am reading; I cannot sit and think. Books think for me. [ Charles Lamb ]
The virtue of the soul does not consist in flying high, but walking orderly; its grandeur does not exercise itself in grandeur, but in mediocrity. [ Montaigne ]
Exaggeration is not only one form of falsehood, it is one of its worst forms: since the swollen and contagious body gains admission by walking in upon healthy legs. [ Berz ]
If thou wouldst preserve a sound body, use fasting, and walking; if a healthful soul, fasting and praying; walking exercises the body, praying exercises the soul, fasting cleanses both. [ Quarles ]
If a woman be herself pure and noble-hearted, she will come into every circle as a person does into a heated room, who carries with him the freshness of the woods where he has been walking. [ Frances Power Cobbe ]
I love to lose myself in other men's minds. When I am not walking, I am reading. I cannot sit and think; books think for me. I have no repugnances. Shaftesbury is not too genteel for me, nor Jonathan Wild too low. [ Lamb ]
I bet the main reason the police keep people away from a plane crash is they don't want anybody walking in and lying down in the crash stuff, then, when somebody comes up, act like they just woke up and go, What was that?
! [ Jack Handey, Deep Thoughts ]
The enthusiast has been compared to a man walking in a fog; everything immediately around him, or in contact with him, appears sufficiently clear and luminous; but beyond the little circle of which he himself is the centre, all is mist and error and confusion. [ Colton ]
What a place to be in is an old library! It seems as though all the souls of all the writers that have bequeathed their labors to these Bodleians were reposing here as in some dormitory, or middle state. I do not want to handle, to profane the leaves, their winding-sheets. I could as soon dislodge a shade. I seem to inhale learning, walking amid their foliage; and the odor of their old moth-scented coverings is fragrant as the first bloom of those sciential apples which grew amid the happy orchard. [ Charles Lamb ]
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 ]