It fortifies my soul to know That, though I perish, Truth is so: That, howsoe'er I stray and range, Whate'er I do, Thou dost not change. I steadier step when I recall That, if I slip Thou dost not fall.
No graven images may be Worshipped, except the currency.
Do not adultery commit; Advantage rarely comes of it.
In front, the sun climbs slow, how slowly, but westward, look, the land is bright.
Old things need not be therefore true, O brother men, nor yet the new; Ah! still awhile the old thought retain, And yet consider it again!
Idonot likebeingmoved:for thewill isexcited;andaction Is a most dangerous thing: I tremble for something factitious, Some malpractice of heart and illegitimate process; We are so proneto thesethings with our terrible notions of duty.
As I sat at the Cafe I said to myself, They may talk as they please about what they call pelf, They may sneer as they like about eating and drinking, But help it I cannot, I cannot help thinking How pleasant it is to have money, heigh-ho! How pleasant it is to have money!
If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars.
What voice did on my spirit fall, Peschiera, when thy bridge I crost? 'Tis better to have fought and lost That never to have fought at all!
O tell me, friends, while yet we part, And heart can yet be heard of heart, O tell me then, for what is it Our early plan of life we quit; From all our old intentions range, And why does all so wholly change? O tell me, friends, while yet we part!
How pleasant it is to have money.
Thou shalt not kill; but needst not strive officiously to keep alive.
And almost everyone when age, disease, or sorrows strike him, inclines to think there is a God, or something very like him.
Tis possible, young sir, that some excess Mars youthful judgment and old men's no less; Yet we must take our counsel as we may For (flying years this lesson still convey), 'Tis worst unwisdom to be overwise, And not to use, but still correct one's eyes.
Thou shalt not covet; but tradition approves all forms of competition.
Whither depart the souls of the brave that die in the battle, Die in the lost, lost fight, for the cause that perishes with them?
Be but faithful, that is all;
Go right on, and close behind thee
There shall follow still and find thee Help, sure help.
Dance on, dance on, we see, we see Youth goes, alack, and with it glee, A boy the old man ne'er can be; Maternal thirty scarce can find The sweet sixteen long left behind.
That out of sight is out of mind is true of most we leave behind.
For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main. And not by eastern windows only, When daylight comes, comes in the light; In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly! But westward, look, the land is bright!
Put forth thy leaf, thou lofty plane, East wind and frost are safely gone; With zephyr mild and balmy rain The summer comes serenely on; Earth, air, and sun and skies combine To promise all that's kind and fair: But thou, O human heart of mine, Be still, contain thyself, and bear.
As ships becalmed at eve, that lay With canvas drooping, side by side, Two towers of sail, at dawn of day Are scarce, long leagues apart, descried.
When panting sighs the bosom fill, And hands by chance united thrill At once with one delicious pain The pulses and the nerves of twain; When eyes that erst could meet with ease, Do seek, yet, seeking, shyly shun Ecstatic conscious unison, The sure beginnings, say, be these Prelusive to the strain of love Which angels sing in heaven above?
And almost every one, when age, Disease, or sorrows strike him, Inclines to think there is a God, Or something very like him.
Loving if the answering breast Seem not to be thus possessed, Still in hoping have a care; If it do, beware, beware! But if in yourself you find it, Above all things mind it, mind it!
Afloat.We move: Delicious! Ah, What else is like the gondola?
Thought may well be ever ranging, And opinion ever changing, Task-work be, though ill begun, Dealt with by experience better; By the law and by the letter Duty done is duty done Do it, Time is on the wing!
Come back again, old heart! Ah me! Methinks in those thy coward fears There might, perchance, a courage be, That fails in these the manlier years; Courage to let the courage sink, Itself a coward base to think, Rather than not for heavenly light Wait on to show the truly right.
Truth is a golden thread, seen here and there In small bright specks upon the visible side Of our strange being's party-coloured web.
I sit at my table en grand seigneur , And when I have done, throw a crust to the poor; Not only the pleasure, one's self, of good living, But also the pleasure of now and then giving. So pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho! So pleasant it is to have money.
Thou shalt have one God only: who Would be at the expense of two?
The highest political buzz word is not liberty, equality, fraternity or solidarity; it is service.
This world is bad enough maybe; We do not comprehend it; But in one fact can all agree God won't, and we can't mend it.
I watched them from the window, thy children at their play, And I thought of all my own dear friends, who were far, oh, far away, And childish loves, and childish cares, and a child's own buoyant gladness Came gushing back again to me with a soft and solemn sadness; And feelings frozen up full long, and thoughts of long ago, Seemed to be thawing at my heart with a warm and sudden flow.
Out of sight is out of mind.
The horrible pleasure of pleasing inferior people.
Each for himself is still the rule We learn it when we go to school The devil take the hindmost, O!
A world where nothing is had for nothing.
Rome, believe me, my friend, is like its own Monte Testaceo, Merelya marvellous mass of broken and castaway wine-pots.
Allah is great, no doubt, and Juxtaposition his prophet.
There is no God', the wicked saith, 'And truly it's a blessing, For what he might have done with us It's better only guessing.
Well, I know, after all, it is only juxtaposition, Juxtaposition, in short; and what is juxtaposition?
My wind is turned to bitter north, That was so soft a south before; My sky, that shone so sunny bright, With foggy gloom is clouded o'er My gay green leaves are yellow-black, Upon the dank autumnal floor; For love, departed once, comes back No more again, no more.
Say not the struggle nought availeth, The labour and the wounds are vain, The enemy faints not, nor faileth, And as things have been, things remain.
A world where nothing is had for nothing.
Grace is given of god, but knowledge is bought in the market.
Action will furnish belief,-but will that belief be the true one? This is the point, you know.
There is a great Field-Marshal, my friend, who arrays our battalions; Let us to Providence trust, and abide and work in our stations.
Whither depart the souls of the brave that die in the battle, Die in the lost, lost fight, for the cause that perishes with them?
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