Quotes
Quotes - Arnold
The vast Mississippi of falsehood.
Resolve to be thyself; and know, that he
Who finds himself, loses his misery.
He who died at Azan sends
This to comfort all his friends:--
Faithful friends! It lies I know
Pale and white and cold as snow;
And ye say, ‘Abdallah's dead!'
Weeping at the feet and head.
I can see your falling tears,
I can hear your sighs and prayers;
Yet I smile and whisper this:
I am not the thing you kiss.
Cease your tears and let it lie;
It was mine--it is not I.
What good I see humbly I seek to do
And live obedient to the law, in trust
That what will come and must come will come well.
We are the voices of the wandering wind,
Which moan for rest and rest can never find;
Lo! as the wind is, so is mortal life,
A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife.
"Learn while you're young," he often said,
"There is much to enjoy, down here below;
Life for the living, and rest for the dead!"
Said the jolly old pedagogue, long ago.
"The living need charity more than the dead."
Journalism is literature in a hurry.
One's age should be tranquil, as childhood should be playful. Hard work at either extremity of life seems out of place. At midday the sun may burn, and men labor under it; but the morning and evening should be alike calm and cheerful.
What is it to grow old? Is it to lose the glory of the form, The lustre of the eye? Is it for Beauty to forego her wreath? Yes; but not this alone.
I must not say that she was true, Yet let me say that she was fair; And they, that lovely face who view, They should not ask if truth be there.
The royal kingcup bold Dares not don his coat of gold.
Joy comes and goes, hope ebbs and flows Like the wave; Change doth unknit the tranquil strength of men. Love tends life a little grace, A few sad smiles; and then, Both are laid in one cold place, In the grave.
The living need charity more than the dead.
The East bow'd low before the blast, In patient, deep disdain. She let the legions thunder past, And plunged in thought again.
He who died at Azan sends This to comfort all this friends: Faithful friends! It lies I know Pale and white and cold as snow; And ye say, "Abdallah's dead!" Weeping at the feet and head. I can see your falling tears, I can hear your sighs and prayers; Yet I smile and whisper this: I am not the thing you kiss. Cease your tears and let it lie; It was mine--it is not I.
Her cabin'd ample spirit, It fluttered and fail'd for breath; Tonight it doth inherit The vasty hall of death.
Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.
What then remains, but that we still should cry Not to be born, or being born to die.
It was from an old friend who . thought he was dying. Anyway, he said, Life and death issues don't come along that often, thank God, so don't treat everything like it's life or death. Go easier.
Who doth right deeds Is twice born, and who doeth ill deeds vile.
The Dewdrop slips into the shining sea!
One thing only has been lent to youth and age in common--discontent.
Here With my beer I sit, While golden moments flit: Alas! They pass Unheeded by: And as they fly, I, Being dry, Sit, idly sipping here My beer.
