Matthew Arnold

Like driftwood spares which meet and pass
Upon the boundless ocean-plain,
So on the sea of life, read more

Like driftwood spares which meet and pass
Upon the boundless ocean-plain,
So on the sea of life, alas!
Man nears man, meets, and leaves again.

Journalism is literature in a hurry.

Journalism is literature in a hurry.

With aching hands and bleeding feet
We dig and heap, lay stone on stone;
We bear the read more

With aching hands and bleeding feet
We dig and heap, lay stone on stone;
We bear the burden and the heat
Of the long day, and wish 'twere done.
Not till the hours of light return
All we have built as we discern.

Six years--six little years--six drops of time.

Six years--six little years--six drops of time.

Is it so small a thing / To have enjoyed the sun, / To have lived light in the spring, read more

Is it so small a thing / To have enjoyed the sun, / To have lived light in the spring, / To have loved, to have thought, to have done?