--- DICTIONARIES (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)

--- QUOTES [0 / 0 - 46 / 46] (in Dictionaries, in Quotes, in Chapters)

KEYS (10k)


NEW FULL DB (2.4M)

   3 Ayn Rand

   3 A W Tozer

   2 Saul Alinsky

   2 Saint Bernard of Clairvaux

   2 Dylan Thomas

   2 Charles Haddon Spurgeon

   2 Audrey Niffenegger

*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***

1:Criticism is the fountainhead of control. ~ Susan Forward

2:A man's ego is the fountainhead of human progress. ~ Ayn Rand

3:Integers are the fountainhead of all mathematics. ~ Hermann Minkowski

4:Money is therefore not only the object but also the fountainhead of greed. ~ Karl Marx

5:It is a sad fact of life that power and fear are the fountainheads of faith. ~ Saul Alinsky

6:For God is good - or rather, of all goodness He is the Fountainhead. ~ Athanasius of Alexandria

7:History is a river that never ends. Today is history, and I am here at the fountainhead. ~ Wilbur Smith

8:The last book I read was the book I've been rereading most of my life, The Fountainhead. ~ Vince Vaughn

9:"You were not born to be a second-hander." Howard Roark to Gail Wynand in "The Fountainhead" ~ Ayn Rand

10:What if imagination and art are not frosting at all, but the fountainhead of human experience? ~ Rollo May

11:Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead, doubtless two of the most exquisitely adolescent of fictions. ~ Nancy Mairs

12:Observing the stream of eternal and simple truth is the same for all who look upon the fountainhead of consciousness. ~ Bryant McGill

13:The daily adoration or visit to the Blessed Sacrament is the practice which is the fountainhead of all devotional works ~ Pope Pius X

14:The pious and just honoring of ourselves may be thought the fountainhead from whence every laudable and worthy enterprise issues forth. ~ John Milton

15:We taste Thee, O Thou Living Bread, And long to feast upon Thee still: We drink of Thee, the Fountainhead And thirst our souls from Thee to fill. ~ A W Tozer

16:I think everything I do has Howard Roark [hero of The Fountainhead] in it, you know, as much as anything. The person I write for is Howard Roark. ~ Neil Peart

17:We taste Thee, O Thou Living Bread, And long to feast upon Thee still: We drink of Thee, the Fountainhead And thirst our souls from Thee to fill. Come ~ A W Tozer

18:We taste Thee, O Thou Living Bread, And long to feast upon Thee still: We drink of Thee, the Fountainhead And thirst our souls from Thee to fill. ~ Saint Bernard of Clairvaux

19:Oh, I inherited my emotions from Calandria May, and I understand now that each human has a ruling passion, one that serves as the fountainhead from which flow all semblances of happiness, sadness, anger, and joy. ~ Karl Schroeder

20:The liberty of thinking and publishing whatsoever each one likes, without any hindrances, is not in itself an advantage over which society can wisely rejoice. On the contrary, it is the fountainhead and origin of many evils. ~ Pope Leo XIII

21:In the mid-1600s, Puritan John Gibbon said, “God alone is enough, but without him, nothing [is enough] for thy happiness.”[218] Whether or not we’re conscious of it, since God is the fountainhead of happiness, the search for happiness is always the search for God. ~ Randy Alcorn

22:21st century is the century of knowledge and the world has always looked at India whenever knowledge finds prominence. Emergence of knowledge society is no more a slogan but has become a reality. Knowledge will be the fountainhead of all the activities that happen in human development. ~ Narendra Modi

23:Let me have a draught of undiluted morning air. Morning air! If men will not drink of this at the fountainhead of the day, why, then, we must even bottle up some and sell it in the shops, for the benefit of those who have lost their subscription ticket to morning time in this world. ~ Henry David Thoreau

24:Some tips for life: 1.Don't be afraid to follow your dreams, unless your dreams are stupid. 2.Be kind to people. 3.Don't get too excited when you read the Fountainhead 4.In times of recession, it is time for invention. 5.Things can kill you, so keep that in mind, you fearless know it alls. ~ Eugene Mirman

25:Armies and governments the world over have a definite technique for provoking hate. By speeches and films and other kinds of propaganda they create an image of the enemy in which he is the incarnation of evil, the symbol of suffering, the fountainhead of the cruelty and injustice of all times. ~ Elie Wiesel

26:Love and faith are not common companions. More commonly power and fear consort with faith....Power is not to be crossed; one must respect and obey. Power means strength, whereas love is a human frailty the people mistrust. It is a sad fact of life that power and fear are the fountainheads of faith. ~ Saul Alinsky

27:As a psychotherapist I see that nothing does as much for an individual’s self-esteem as becoming aware of and accepting disowned parts of the self. The, first steps of healing and growth are awareness and acceptance—consciousness and integration. They are the fountainhead of personal development. ~ Nathaniel Branden

28:But that was twenty years ago, and with the exception of EQMM (still indisputably the fountainhead of significant mystery fiction throughout the civilized world), most of the magazines I listed above are dead. Crumbling yellow pulp relics in my files, dropping brittle little triangles from page corners. ~ Harlan Ellison

29:Shiva-linga then is thus at once, the self-stirred phallus of the Tapasvin, the reverse flow of his semen, the burning of Tapa, the endless pillar of fire and the form of the formless divine. This is the Stanu, the still pillar of consciousness, the fountainhead of imagination, around which nature dances. ~ Devdutt Pattanaik

30:Leisure cannot be achieved at all when it is sought as a means to an end, even though that end be “the salvation of Western civilization”. Celebration of God in worship cannot be done unless it is done for its own sake. That most sublime form of affirmation of the world as a whole is the fountainhead of leisure. ~ Josef Pieper

31:I had seen myself, a portrait of myself as a reader. My childhood: hours spent in airless classrooms, days home sick from school reading Nancy Drew, forbidden books read secretively late at night. Teenage years reading - trying to read- books I'd heard were important, Naked Lunch and The Fountainhead, Ulysses and Women in Love." -The Night Bookmobile ~ Audrey Niffenegger

32:It does not matter that only a few in each generation will grasp and achieve the full reality of man's proper stature-and the rest will betray it. It is those few that move the world and give life its meaning-and it is those few that I have always sought to address. The rest are no concern of mine; it is not me or "The Fountainhead" that they will betray: it is their own souls. ~ Ayn Rand

33:Jesus, thou joy of loving hearts, Thou fount of life, thou Light of men, From the best bliss that earth imparts We turn unfilled to Thee again. We taste Thee, O Thou living Bread, And long to feast upon Thee still: We drink of Thee, the Fountainhead, And thirst our souls from Thee to fill. O Jesus, ever with us stay, Make all our moments calm and bright; Chase the dark night of sin away, Shed o'er the world Thy holy light. ~ Saint Bernard of Clairvaux

34:Have you ever found your heart's desire and then lost it? I had seen myself, a portrait of myself as a reader. My childhood: days home sick from school reading Nancy Drew, forbidden books read secretively late at night. Teenage years reading -trying to read- books I'd heard were important, Naked Lunch, and The Fountainhead, Ulysses and Women in Love... It was as though I had dreamt the perfect lover, who vanished as I woke, leaving me pining and surly. ~ Audrey Niffenegger

35:Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life” (Prov. 4:23). Above all else. Why? Because God knows that our heart is core to who we are. It is the source of all our creativity, our courage, and our convictions. It is the fountainhead of our faith, our hope, and of course, our love. This “wellspring of life” within us is the very essence of our existence, the center of our being. Your heart as a woman is the most important thing about you. ~ John Eldredge

36:A Word Of Thanks To these I know a debt past telling: My several muses, harsh and kind; My folks, who stood my sulks and yelling, And (in the long run) did not mind; Dead legislators, whose orations I've filched to mix my own potations; Indeed, all those whose brains I've pressed, Unmerciful, because obsessed; My own dumb soul, which on a pittance Survived to weave this fictive spell; And, gentle reader, you as well, The fountainhead of all remittance. Buy me before good sense insists You'll strain your purse and sprain your wrists. ~ Vikram Seth

37:Rose Wilder Lane, Ayn Rand, and Isabel Mary Paterson each published philosophical works early that year. Lane’s The Discovery of Freedom appeared in January 1943; Rand’s The Fountainhead followed in April; Paterson’s The God of the Machine came out in May. Three weird sisters in an antifeminist trifecta, they each celebrated in their books the strapping male as a hero, and exhibited a striking dissociation from what was happening around the world. Emphasizing free will as essential to liberty, the works laid the foundation for the libertarian political movement in the United States. ~ Caroline Fraser

38:He spent several days deciding on the artifacts. Much longer than he had spent deciding to kill himself, and approximately the same time required to get that many reds. He would be found lying on his back, on his bed, with a copy of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead (which would prove he had been a misunderstood superman rejected by the masses and so, in a sense, murdered by their scorn) and an unfinished letter to Exxon protesting the cancellation of his gas credit card. That way he would indict the system and achieve something by his death, over and above what the death itself achieved. Actually, he was not as sure in his mind what the death achieved as what the two artifacts achieved; but anyhow it all added up... ~ Philip K Dick

39:Criticism, for a book, is a truthful, unfaked badge of attention, signaling that it is not boring; and boring is the only very bad thing for a book. Consider the Ayn Rand phenomenon: her books Atlas Shrugged and The Fountainhead have been read for more than half a century by millions of people, in spite of, or most likely thanks to, brutally nasty reviews and attempts to discredit her. The first-order information is the intensity: what matters is the effort the critic puts into trying to prevent others from reading the book, or, more generally in life, it is the effort in badmouthing someone that matters, not so much what is said. So if you really want people to read a book, tell them it is “overrated,” with a sense of outrage (and use the attribute “underrated” for the opposite effect). ~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb

40:Still, I again remind you that faith is only the channel or aqueduct, and not the fountainhead, and we must not look so much to it as to exalt it above the divine source of all blessing which lies in the grace of God. Never make a Christ out of your faith, nor think of as if it were the independent source of your salvation. Our life is found in "looking unto Jesus," not in looking to our own faith. By faith all things become possible to us; yet the power is not in the faith, but in the God upon whom faith relies. Grace is the powerful engine, and faith is the chain by which the carriage of the soul is attached to the great motive power. The righteousness of faith is not the moral excellence of faith, but the righteousness of Jesus Christ which faith grasps and appropriates. The peace within the soul is not derived from the contemplation of our own faith; but it comes to us from Him who is our peace, the hem of whose garment faith touches, and virtue comes out of Him into the soul. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

41:To have found God and still to pursue Him is the soul's paradox of love, scorned indeed by the too-easily-satisfied religionist, but justified in happy experience by the children of the burning heart. St. Bernard stated this holy paradox in a musical quatrain that will be instantly understood by every worshipping soul: We taste Thee, O Thou Living Bread, And long to feast upon Thee still: We drink of Thee, the Fountainhead And thirst our souls from Thee to fill. Come near to the holy men and women of the past and you will soon feel the heat of their desire after God. They mourned for Him, they prayed and wrestled and sought for Him day and night, in season and out, and when they had found Him the finding was all the sweeter for the long seeking. Moses used the fact that he knew God as an argument for knowing Him better. "Now, therefore, I pray thee, if I have found grace in thy sight, show me now thy way, that I may know thee, that I may find grace in thy sight"; and from there he rose to make the daring request, "I beseech thee, show me thy glory. ~ A W Tozer

42:The ability of the Mystery Schools to communicate with the invisible worlds is the basis of their power; for all the creative hierarchies dwell in the unseen worlds, and there the disciple must go in order to consult them. The reason for this is that the human race is the only one in our scheme of things that is equipped with both a physical and a mental body. The gods, so-called, have never descended into physical substance. Consequently, having no body composed of dense chemical elements, they are incapable of manifesting here. In order to communicate with them, man must, therefore, learn to function consciously in his own invisible bodies. When he is capable of doing this, he can communicate with the spiritual beings who dwell in similar superphysical substances. Thus, while religion deals only with fancies, theorems, and beliefs, the initiates of the Ancient Wisdom go straight to the fountainhead of wisdom and, learning the will of the gods, make that will the law of their lives. The initiate does not guess, wonder or soliloquize; he labors with facts for he is one with the truths of Nature. ~ Manly P Hall, What the Ancient Wisdom Expects of Its Disciples

43:So to avoid the twin dangers of nostalgia and despairing bitterness, I'll just say that in Cartagena we'd spend a whole month of happiness, and sometimes even a month and a half, or even longer, going out in Uncle Rafa's motorboat, La Fiorella, to Bocachica to collect seashells and eat fried fish with plantain chips and cassava, and to the Rosary Islands, where I tried lobster, or to the beach at Bocagrande, or walking to the pool at the Caribe Hotel, until we were mildly burned on our shoulders, which after a few days started peeling and turned freckly forever, or playing football with my cousins, in the little park opposite Bocagrande Church, or tennis in the Cartagena Club or ping-pong in their house, or going for bike rides, or swimming under the little nameless waterfalls along the coast, or making the most of the rain and the drowsiness of siesta time to read the complete works of Agatha Christie or the fascinating novels of Ayn Rand (I remember confusing the antics of the architect protagonist of The Fountainhead with those of my uncle Rafael), or Pearl S. Buck's interminable sagas, in cool hammocks strung up in the shade on the terrace of the house, with a view of the sea, drinking Kola Roman, eating Chinese empanadas on Sundays, coconut rice with red snapper on Mondays, Syrian-Lebanese kibbeh on Wednesdays, sirloin steak on Fridays and, my favourite, egg arepas on Saturday mornings, piping hot and brought fresh from a nearby village, Luruaco, where they had the best recipe. ~ H ctor Abad Faciolince

44:Grace is the first and last moving cause of salvation; and faith, essential as it is, is only an important part of the machinery which grace employs. We are saved "through faith," but salvation is "by grace." Sound forth those words as with the archangel's trumpet: "By grace are ye saved." What glad tidings for the undeserving! Faith occupies the position of a channel or conduit pipe. Grace is the fountain and the stream; faith is the aqueduct along which the flood of mercy flows down to refresh the thirsty sons of men. It is a great pity when the aqueduct is broken. It is a sad sight to see around Rome the many noble aqueducts which no longer convey water into the city, because the arches are broken and the marvelous structures are in ruins. The aqueduct must be kept entire to convey the current; and, even so, faith must be true and sound, leading right up to God and coming right down to ourselves, that it may become a serviceable channel of mercy to our souls. Still, I again remind you that faith is only the channel or aqueduct, and not the fountainhead, and we must not look so much to it as to exalt it above the divine source of all blessing which lies in the grace of God. Never make a Christ out of your faith, nor think of as if it were the independent source of your salvation. Our life is found in "looking unto Jesus," not in looking to our own faith. By faith all things become possible to us; yet the power is not in the faith, but in the God upon whom faith relies. Grace is the powerful engine, and faith is the chain by which the carriage of the soul is attached to the great motive power. The righteousness of faith is not the moral excellence of faith, but the righteousness of Jesus Christ which faith grasps and appropriates. The peace within the soul is not derived from the contemplation of our own faith; but it comes to us from Him who is our peace, the hem of whose garment faith touches, and virtue comes out of Him into the soul. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

45:Prologue This day winding down now At God speeded summer's end In the torrent salmon sun, In my seashaken house On a breakneck of rocks Tangled with chirrup and fruit, Froth, flute, fin, and quill At a wood's dancing hoof, By scummed, starfish sands With their fishwife cross Gulls, pipers, cockles, and snails, Out there, crow black, men Tackled with clouds, who kneel To the sunset nets, Geese nearly in heaven, boys Stabbing, and herons, and shells That speak seven seas, Eternal waters away From the cities of nine Days' night whose towers will catch In the religious wind Like stalks of tall, dry straw, At poor peace I sing To you strangers (though song Is a burning and crested act, The fire of birds in The world's turning wood, For my swan, splay sounds), Out of these seathumbed leaves That will fly and fall Like leaves of trees and as soon Crumble and undie Into the dogdayed night. Seaward the salmon, sucked sun slips, And the dumb swans drub blue My dabbed bay's dusk, as I hack This rumpus of shapes For you to know How I, a spining man, 136 Glory also this star, bird Roared, sea born, man torn, blood blest. Hark: I trumpet the place, From fish to jumping hill! Look: I build my bellowing ark To the best of my love As the flood begins, Out of the fountainhead Of fear, rage read, manalive, Molten and mountainous to stream Over the wound asleep Sheep white hollow farms To Wales in my arms. Hoo, there, in castle keep, You king singsong owls, who moonbeam The flickering runs and dive The dingle furred deer dead! Huloo, on plumbed bryns, O my ruffled ring dove in the hooting, nearly dark With Welsh and reverent rook, Coo rooning the woods' praise, who moons her blue notes from her nest Down to the curlew herd! Ho, hullaballoing clan Agape, with woe In your beaks, on the gabbing capes! Heigh, on horseback hill, jack Whisking hare! who Hears, there, this fox light, my flood ship's Clangour as I hew and smite (A clash of anvils for my Hubbub and fiddle, this tune On a toungued puffball) But animals thick as theives On God's rough tumbling grounds (Hail to His beasthood!). Beasts who sleep good and thin, Hist, in hogback woods! The haystacked Hollow farms in a throng Of waters cluck and cling, 137 And barnroofs cockcrow war! O kingdom of neighbors finned Felled and quilled, flash to my patch Work ark and the moonshine Drinking Noah of the bay, With pelt, and scale, and fleece: Only the drowned deep bells Of sheep and churches noise Poor peace as the sun sets And dark shoals every holy field. We will ride out alone then, Under the stars of Wales, Cry, multitudes of arks! Across The water lidded lands, Manned with their loves they'll move Like wooden islands, hill to hill. Hulloo, my prowed dove with a flute! Ahoy, old, sea-legged fox, Tom tit and Dai mouse! My ark sings in the sun At God speeded summer's end And the flood flowers now. ~ Dylan Thomas

46:Author's Prologue This day winding down now At God speeded summer's end In the torrent salmon sun, In my seashaken house On a breakneck of rocks Tangled with chirrup and fruit, Froth, flute, fin, and quill At a wood's dancing hoof, By scummed, starfish sands With their fishwife cross Gulls, pipers, cockles, and snails, Out there, crow black, men Tackled with clouds, who kneel To the sunset nets, Geese nearly in heaven, boys Stabbing, and herons, and shells That speak seven seas, Eternal waters away From the cities of nine Days' night whose towers will catch In the religious wind Like stalks of tall, dry straw, At poor peace I sing To you strangers (though song Is a burning and crested act, The fire of birds in The world's turning wood, For my swan, splay sounds), Out of these seathumbed leaves That will fly and fall Like leaves of trees and as soon Crumble and undie Into the dogdayed night. Seaward the salmon, sucked sun slips, And the dumb swans drub blue My dabbed bay's dusk, as I hack This rumpus of shapes For you to know How I, a spining man, 36 Glory also this star, bird Roared, sea born, man torn, blood blest. Hark: I trumpet the place, From fish to jumping hill! Look: I build my bellowing ark To the best of my love As the flood begins, Out of the fountainhead Of fear, rage read, manalive, Molten and mountainous to stream Over the wound asleep Sheep white hollow farms To Wales in my arms. Hoo, there, in castle keep, You king singsong owls, who moonbeam The flickering runs and dive The dingle furred deer dead! Huloo, on plumbed bryns, O my ruffled ring dove in the hooting, nearly dark With Welsh and reverent rook, Coo rooning the woods' praise, who moons her blue notes from her nest Down to the curlew herd! Ho, hullaballoing clan Agape, with woe In your beaks, on the gabbing capes! Heigh, on horseback hill, jack Whisking hare! who Hears, there, this fox light, my flood ship's Clangour as I hew and smite (A clash of anvils for my Hubbub and fiddle, this tune On atounged puffball) But animals thick as theives On God's rough tumbling grounds (Hail to His beasthood!). Beasts who sleep good and thin, Hist, in hogback woods! The haystacked Hollow farms ina throng Of waters cluck and cling, And barnroofs cockcrow war! 37 O kingdom of neighbors finned Felled and quilled, flash to my patch Work ark and the moonshine Drinking Noah of the bay, With pelt, and scale, and fleece: Only the drowned deep bells Of sheep and churches noise Poor peace as the sun sets And dark shoals every holy field. We will ride out alone then, Under the stars of Wales, Cry, Multiudes of arks! Across The water lidded lands, Manned with their loves they'll move Like wooden islands, hill to hill. Huloo, my prowed dove with a flute! Ahoy, old, sea-legged fox, Tom tit and Dai mouse! My ark sings in the sun At God speeded summer's end And the flood flowers now. ~ Dylan Thomas

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