All work is as seed sown; it grows and spreads, and sows itself anew.
Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881) Scottish essayist and historian
Essay (1832-05) “Boswell’s Life of Johnson,” Fraser’s Magazine, Vol. 5, No. 28
(Source)
Reviewing James Boswell The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D.; including a Tour to the Hebrides (1831 ed.). Collected in Critical and Miscellaneous Essays (1827-1855).
Quotations about:
harvest
Note not all quotations have been tagged, so Search may find additional quotes on this topic.
In all truth I tell you, unless a wheat grain falls into the earth and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies it yields a rich harvest.
[ἀμὴν ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν ἐὰν μὴ ὁ κόκκος τοῦ σίτου πεσὼν εἰς τὴν γῆν ἀποθάνῃ αὐτὸς μόνος μένει ἐὰν δὲ ἀποθάνῃ πολὺν καρπὸν φέρει.]
The Bible (The New Testament) (AD 1st - 2nd C) Christian sacred scripture
John 12: 24 (Jesus) [NJB (1985)]
(Source)
No Synoptic parallels.
(Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.
[KJV (1611)]I tell you, most solemnly, unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest.
[JB (1966)]I am telling you the truth: a grain of wheat remains no more than a single grain unless it is dropped into the ground and dies. If it does die, then it produces many grains.
[GNT (1976)]I assure you that unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it can only be a single seed. But if it dies, it bears much fruit.
[CEB (2011)]Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.
[NRSV (2021 ed.)]
Lord, what can the harvest hope for, if not for the care of the Reaper Man?
I like to see flowers growing, but when they are gathered, they cease to please. I look on them as things rootless and perishable; their likeness to life makes me sad. I never offer flowers to those I love; I never wish to receive them from hands dear to me.
Charlotte Brontë (1816-1855) British novelist [pseud. Currer Bell]
Villette, ch. 24 “Monsieur’s Fête” (1853)
(Source)




