Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!A farewell, and then forever!Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,While the star of hope she leaves him?Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me,Dark despair around benights me. - Ae Fond Kiss.
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Nothing but blackness aboveAnd nothing that moves but the cars...God, if you wish for our love,Fling us a handful of read more
Nothing but blackness aboveAnd nothing that moves but the cars...God, if you wish for our love,Fling us a handful of stars! - Caliban in the Coal Mines.
A fool's brain digests philosophy into folly, science into superstition, and art into pedantry. Hence University education.
A fool's brain digests philosophy into folly, science into superstition, and art into pedantry. Hence University education.
The republic of letters.
[Fr., La republique des lettres.]
The republic of letters.
[Fr., La republique des lettres.]
Biographies are but the clothes and buttons of a man -- the biography of the man himself cannot be written.
Biographies are but the clothes and buttons of a man -- the biography of the man himself cannot be written.
Poetry must have something in it that is barbaric, vast and wild.
Poetry must have something in it that is barbaric, vast and wild.
'Humph!' grunted Mr. Romford, seeing his worst fears about to be realized. He had dreamt that he had timbled over read more
'Humph!' grunted Mr. Romford, seeing his worst fears about to be realized. He had dreamt that he had timbled over a poodle in the drawing-room, and squirted a bottle of porter right into a lady's face. 'Who's goin' besides ourselves?' asked Romford, wishing to know the worst at once. 'Better be killed than frightened to death,' thought he. - Mr. Facey Romford's Hounds.
Beneath the rule of men entirely great, / The pen is mightier than the sword.
Beneath the rule of men entirely great, / The pen is mightier than the sword.
The writer in western civilization has become not a voice of his tribe, but of his individuality. This is a read more
The writer in western civilization has become not a voice of his tribe, but of his individuality. This is a very narrow-minded situation.
Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go read more
Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go on for ever. - The Brook.
