Quotes

Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, The bed be blest that I lie on. Four angels to my bed, Four angels round my head, 1 One to watch, and one to pray, And two to bear my soul away.

The ship was cheered, the harbor cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the lighthouse top.

I am Rose my eyes are blue I am Rose and who are you I am Rose and when I sing I am Rose like anything.

Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.

This only grant me, that my means may lie Too low for envy, for contempt too high.

Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.

but beginning of Terror we’re still just able to bear, and why we adore it so is because it serenely disdains to destroy us. Each single angel is terrible.

Away, and mock the time with fairest show: False face must hide what the false heart doth know.

Well then; I now do plainly see This busy world and I shall ne’er agree; The very honey of all earthly joy Does of all meats the soonest cloy, And they (methinks) deserve my pity, Who for it can endure the stings, The crowd, and buzz and murmurings, Of this great hive, the city.

The Wedding Guest here beat his breast, For he heard the loud bassoon.

Us the most fleeting of all. Just once, everything, only for once. Once and no more. And we, too, once. And never again. But this having been once, though only once, having been once on earth—can it ever be canceled?

And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me.

Ah yet, ere I descend to the grave May I a small house and large garden have; And a few friends, and many books, both true, Both wise, and both delightful too!

Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

Bridge, Fountain, Gate, Jug, Fruit tree, Window,— possibly: Pillar, Tower?

The moon is down.

The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, And drinks, and gapes for drink again. The plants suck in the earth, and are With constant drinking fresh and fair.

The bride hath paced into the hall, Red as a rose is she.

I am the people—the mob—the crowd—the mass. Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?

This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This is the common air that bathes the globe.

A mighty pain to love it is, And ’tis a pain that pain to miss; But of all pains, the greatest pain It is to love, but love in vain.

These violent delights have violent ends.

Hog butcher for the world, Tool maker, stacker of wheat, Player with railroads and the nation’s freight handler; Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the big shoulders.

There’s husbandry in heaven; Their candles are all out.