Writer quotes

And now abideth , , , these three; but the greatest of these is money.

The vocation of every man and woman is to serve other people.

The age demanded that we dance And jammed us into iron pants. And in the end the age was handed The sort of shit that it demanded.

God knows; I won't be an Oxford don anyhow. I'll be a poet, a writer, a dramatist. Somehow or other I'll be famous, and if not famous, I'll be notorious. Or perhaps I'll lead the life of pleasure for a time and then—who knows?—rest and do nothing. What doessay is the highest end that man can attain here below? To sit down and contemplate the good. Perhaps that will be the end of me too.

I hear the approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too, I feel the suffering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that this cruelty too shall end, and that peace & tranquility will return once again.

I think thatshould not only be legal, I think it should be a cottage industry. It would be wonderful for the state of . There's some pretty good homegrown dope. I'm sure it would be even better if you could grow it with fertilizers and have greenhouses.

Every age has its own ; in every age the circumstances ofchoose a nation, a race, a class to take up the torch by creating situations that can be expressed or transcended only through poetry.

Egotist, n. A person of low taste, more interested in himself than in me.

He who possesses liberty otherwise than as an aspiration possesses it soulless, dead.

My specialty is being right when other people are wrong.

The fact that we live at the bottom of a deep gravity well, on the surface of a gas covered planet going around90 million miles away and think this to be normal is obviously some indication of how skewed our perspective tends to be.

A crust eaten in peace is better than a banquet partaken in anxiety.

Place yourself in the middle of the stream ofandwhich animates all whom it floats, and you are without effort impelled to , to right and a perfect contentment.

Now what I contend is that my body is my own, at least I have always so regarded it. If I do harm through my experimenting with it, it is I who suffer, not the state.

“‘

I am a parcel of vain strivings tied By abond together, Dangling this way and that, their links Were made so loose and wide, Methinks, For milder weather.

La vertu s'avilit

In the middle of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer.

Every sin is the result of collaboration.

The lyf so short, the craft so longe to lerne. Th’ assay so hard, so sharp the conquerynge, The dredful joye, alwey that slit so yerne; Al this mene I be love.

Still to the lover's long-expecting arms To-morrow brings the visionary bride. But thou, too old to hear another cheat, Learn, that the present hour alone is man's.

Moralities, ethics, laws, customs, beliefs, doctrines - these are of trifling import. All that matters is that the miraculous become the norm.

Put the car away; when life fails What's the good of going to Wales? Here am I, here are you: But what does it mean? What are we going to do?

Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos.

One must not always think that feeling is everything. Art is nothing without form.

I can never look now at the Milky Way without wondering from which of those bankedofthe emissaries are coming. ... I do not think we will have to wait for long.

Outside intelligences, exploring the Solar System with true impartiality, would be quite likely to enter the Sun in their records thus: Star X, spectral class G0, 4 planets plus debris.

, not , made us .

Out of my own great woe I make my little songs.

It is a beautiful truth that all men contain something of the artist in them. And perhaps it is the case that the greatest artists live and die, the world and themselves alike ignorant what they possess. Who would not mourn that an ample palace, of surpassingly graceful architecture, fill’d with luxuries, and embellish’d with fine pictures and sculpture, should stand cold and still and vacant, and never be known or enjoy’d by its owner? Would such a fact as this cause your sadness? Then be sad. For there is a palace, to which the courts of the most sumptuous kings are but a frivolous patch, and, though it is always waiting for them, not one of its owners ever enters there with any genuine sense of its grandeur and glory.I think of few heroic actions, which cannot be traced to the artistical impulse. He who does great deeds, does them from his innate sensitiveness to moral beauty.

Impartiality is a pompousfor , which is an elegant name for .

I am moved by fancies that are curled Around these images, and cling: The notion of some infinitely gentle Infinitely suffering thing.

The circumstances of the world are continually changing, and the opinions of man change also; and as government is for the living, and not for the dead, it is the living only that has any right in it.

Love hath so long possessed me for his own And made his lordship so familiar.

It is absurd to think that the only way to tell if a poem is lasting is to wait and see if it lasts. The right reader of a good poem can tell the moment it strikes him that he has taken an immortal wound — that he will never get over it.

I will beor nothing.

Life grants nothing to us mortals without hard work.

(1797–98; 1817)

You would not easily guess All the modes of distress Which torture the tenants of earth; And the various evils, Which like so many devils, Attend the poor souls from their birth.

The typography of some of these quotes may seem incorrect: it probably isn't. Outside of some bolding for emphasis of well noted or notable statements, and a few marks of ellipsis "…" for gaps, the author's often odd original typography has been retained, so much as possible, in many of the quotes, including where punctuation marks between words are often used without any spaces.

Wise men learn more from fools than fools from the wise.

Pray tell me, sir, whose dog are you?

They are ; but theyin each Patriot's breast, And theirare engraven on 's bright crest.

The lark's on the wing…

Beauty's of a fading nature Has a season and is gone!

The Child is father of the Man; I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.

What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones, The labor of an age in pil

A nightcap decked his brows instead of bay, A cap by night — a stocking all the day!

When I behold this I sighed, and said within myself, "Surely mortal man is a broomstick!" Nature sent him into the world strong and lusty, in a thriving condition, wearing his own hair on his head, the proper branches of this reasoning vegetable, till the axe of intemperance has lopped off his green boughs, and left him a withered trunk; he then flies to , and puts on a periwig, valuing himself upon an unnatural bundle of hairs, all covered with powder, that never grew on his head; but now should this our broomstick pretend to enter the scene, proud of those birchen spoils it never bore, and all covered with dust, through the sweepings of the finest lady's chamber, we should be apt to ridicule and despise its . Partialthat we are of our own excellencies, and other men's defaults!

Music religious heat inspires, It wakes the soul, and lifts it high

Every fool knoweth that hatreds are the cinders of affection.

One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other. ~

How small the vastest of human catastrophes may seem at a distance of a few million miles.

There's enough sorrow in the world, isn't there, without trying to invent it.

Only the skilled can judge the skilfulness, but that is not the same as judging the value of the result.

I wonder by my troth, what thou, and I Did, till we loved? were we not weaned till then? But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den? 'Twas so; but this all pleasures fancies be; If ever any beauty I did see, Which I desir'd, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.

The archetype of the Creator is a familiar image in his work. Here, Blake depicts hisfigurestooped in prayer, contemplating the world he has forged. Theis the third in a series ofpainted by Blake and his wife, collectively known as the Continental Prophecies.

"Maybe ", he thought, "doesn't come from a store." "Maybe Christmas... perhaps... means a little bit more!"

If you are religious, then remember that this bomb is Man's challenge to God. It's worded quite simply: We have the power to destroy everything that You have created. If you're not religious, then look at it this way. This world of ours is 4 600 000 000 years old. It could end in an afternoon.

The formula for prison is a lack of space counterbalanced by a surplus of time.

is in itself noble; that is why the artist has no fear of what is common. This, indeed, is already ennobled when he takes it up.

Homage toby(1864). Baudelaire is shown seated at the lower right.

In these selections the quotes from a story or essay are listed among the earliest collections which are known to contain it.

Every man is his own doctor of divinity, in the last resort.

Each imagin'd pinnacle and steep Of godlike hardship tells me I must die Like a sick Eagle looking at the sky.

Do you know thatis one of the greatest pleasures in life? But it wants leisure.

There was an Old Man with a beard, Who said, "It is just as I feared!— Two Owls and a Hen, Four Larks and a Wren, Have all built their nests in my beard!"

Le malheur est que, parfois, des souhaits s'accomplissent, afin que se perp

A ess

Rien ne r

Between grief and nothing I will take grief.

Death in itself is nothing; but we fear To be we know not what, we know not where.

For of thethe bodie forme doth take; For the soule is forme, and doth the bodie make.

Your attitude measures up to the two requirements of . You want to go to bed with her and can't, and you don't know her very well. Ignorance of the other person topped up with deprivation, Jim. You fit the formula all right, and what's more you want to go on fitting it.

You getall the . The only difference betweenand otheris we notice when we're doing it.

An intelligent, energetic, educated woman cannot be kept in four walls — even satin-lined, diamond-studded walls — without discovering sooner or later that they are still a prison cell.

They could see she was a real Princess and no question about it, now that she had felt one pea all the way through twenty mattresses and twenty more feather beds. Nobody but a Princess could be so delicate.

Caminante, son tus huellas el camino, y nada m

are not favourable to delicate .

What do we know … of the world and the universe about us? Our means of receiving impressions are absurdly few, and our notions of surrounding objects infinitely narrow. We see things only as we are constructed to see them, and can gain no idea of their absolute nature. With five feeble senses we pretend to comprehend the boundlessly complex cosmos, yet other beings with wider, stronger, or different range of senses might not only see very differently the things we see, but might see and study whole worlds of matter, energy, and life which lie close at hand yet can never be detected with the senses we have.

A dark unfathom'd tide Of interminable pride — A mystery, and a dream, Should my early life seem.

Dolt & ass that I am I have lived more than 29 years, & until a few days ago, never made close acquaintance with the divine . Ah, he's full of sermons-on-the-mount, and gentle, aye, almost as . I take such men to be inspired. I fancy that this moment Shakspeare in heaven ranks with ,and . And if another Messiah ever comes twill be in Shakesper's person. — I am mad to think how minute a cause has prevented me hitherto from reading Shakspeare. But until now, every copy that was come-atable to me, happened to be in a vile small print unendurable to my eyes which are tender as young sparrows. But chancing to fall in with this glorious edition, I now exult in it, page after page.

Unless you can love, as the angels may, With the breadth of heaven betwixt you; Unless you can dream that his faith is fast, Through behoving and unbehoving; Unless you can die when the dream is past — Oh, never call it loving!

What is the world at its best but a little round field of the moving pictures with two walking together in it?

God is sitting here, looking into my very soul to see if I think right thoughts. Yet I am not afraid, for I try to be right and good; and He knows every one of my struggles.

Disco is the best floor show in town. It's very democratic, boys with boys, girls with girls, girls with boys, blacks and whites, capitalists and Marxists, Chinese and everything else, all in one big mix.

There are some people who can receive a truth by no other way than to have their understanding shocked and insulted.

knew that every experience carries its lesson. ~ Princess Irulan in

The friends that have it I do wrong Whenever I remake a song Should know what issue is at stake, It is myself that I remake.

Magnify the divine mystery and the holiness of mankind.

I don't actually have anything against anybody, unless theirprecludes everybody else's. … I am anand anand I have been for many years. I've actually taken a huge amount of flack for that.

Can any of us fix anything? No. None of us can do that. We're specialized. Each one of us has his own line, his own work. I understand my work, you understand yours. The tendency in evolution is toward greater and greater specialization. Man's society is an ecology that forces adaptation to it. Continued complexity makes it impossible for us to know anything outside our own personal field - I can't follow the work of the man sitting at the next desk over from me. Too much knowledge has piled up in each field. And there are too many fields.

We give to necessity the praise of virtue.

The future is already here — it's just not very evenly distributed.

I have given them life instead of death, freedom instead of the cords of superstition, beauty and truth instead of corruption and exploitation.

Dearest, I want to tell you that you have given me complete happiness. No one could have done more than you have done. Please believe that. But I know that I shall never get over this: and I am wasting your life. It is this madness. Nothing anyone says can persuade me. You can work, and you will be much better without me. You see I can't write this even, which shows I am right. All I want to say is that until this disease came on we were perfectly happy. It was all due to you. No one could have been so good as you have been, from the very first day till now. Everyone knows that. V.

Congress no longer declares war or makes budgets. So that's the end of the constitution as a working machine.

Je est un autre.

Ideas, cultures, and histories cannot seriously be understood or studied without their force, or more precisely their configurations of power, also being studied.

It's only when atames his own demons that he becomes the king of himself if not of the .