Quotes

Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.

“Ha! ha!” quoth he, “full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row.”

I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud again.

Fate gave, what Chance shall not control, His sad lucidity of soul.

But thought’s the slave of life, and life time’s fool; And time, that takes survey of all the world, Must have a stop. O! I could prophesy, But that the earthy and cold hand of death Lies on my tongue.

In pious times, ere priestcraft did begin, Before polygamy was made a sin.

Hang out our banners on the outward walls; The cry is still, “They come”; our castle’s strength Will laugh a siege to scorn.

The world in which we live and move Outlasts aversion, outlasts love: Outlasts each effort, interest, hope, Remorse, grief, joy.

This earth, that bears thee dead, Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.

I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach.

My fell of hair Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir As life were in ’t. I have supp’d full with horrors.

Yet they, believe me, who await No gifts from Chance, have conquered Fate.

Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, But not remember’d in thy epitaph!

Whate’er he did was done with so much ease, In him alone, ’twas natural to please.

She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word. Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! 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.

We cannot kindle when we will The fire that in the heart resides, The spirit bloweth and is still, In mystery our soul abides.

I could have better spar’d a better man.

O Wedding Guest! This soul hath been Alone on a wide wide sea: So lonely ’twas, that God himself Scarce seemèd there to be.

I ’gin to be aweary of the sun, And wish the estate o’ the world were now undone.

Calm Soul of all things! make it mine To feel, amid the city’s jar, That there abides a peace of thine, Man did not make, and can not mar.

Full bravely hast thou flesh’d Thy maiden sword.

Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease.

Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we’ll die with harness on our back.

Hither and thither spins The windborne, mirroring soul; A thousand glimpses wins, And never sees a whole.