Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

The scourge of life, and death's extreme disgrace,
The smoke of hell,--that monster called Paine.

The scourge of life, and death's extreme disgrace,
The smoke of hell,--that monster called Paine.

There is purpose in pain,
Otherwise it were devilish.

There is purpose in pain,
Otherwise it were devilish.

Nothing begins, and nothing ends, That is not paid with moan; For we are born in others pain And perish read more

Nothing begins, and nothing ends, That is not paid with moan; For we are born in others pain And perish in our own.

Long ailments wear out pain, and long hopes, joy.

Long ailments wear out pain, and long hopes, joy.

Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.

Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.

He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.

He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.

They can't hurt you unless you let them.

They can't hurt you unless you let them.

Pain is weakness leaving the body.

Pain is weakness leaving the body.