A president cannot sit on his hands and be seen as passive in the face of ruthless action by a foreign dictator.
The secret to happiness is to face the fact that the world is horrible.
I don’t cover my face because I want to show my identity.
A good poem looks life straight in the face, unflinching, sincere, equal to revelation through loss or gain.
The single despot stands out in the face of all men, and says: I am the State: My will is law: I am your master: I take the responsibility of my acts: The only arbiter I acknowledge is the sword: If any one denies my right, let him try conclusions with me.
The face is the soul of the body.
Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.
Her angel’s face, As the great eye of heaven shined bright, And made a sunshine in the shady place.
Loss doesn’t feel redeemable. But for me one consoling aspect is the recognition that, in this at least, none of us is different from anyone else: We all lose loved ones; we all face our own death.
I always showed myself in the face of day, asserting the liberty and independence of my country, while some others, like owls, courted concealment and were too much afraid of losing their roosts to leave them for such a cause.