Do I not live? Badly, I know, but I live.
Never at my hands will the traitor be honored above the patriot. But whoever proves his loyalty to the state–I’ll prize that man in death as well as life.
He has the thousand-yard stare.
By dread things I am compelled. I know that. I see the trap closing. I know what I am. But while life is in me I will not stop this violence. No. Oh my friends who is there to comfort me? Who understands? Leave me be, let me go, do not soothe me. This is a knot no one can untie. There will be no rest, there is no retrieval. No number exists for griefs like these.
I am at the end. I exist no more.
But when a god sends harm, no man can sidestep it, no matter how strong he may be.
Thou wouldst make a good monarch of a desert.
Compassion limits even the power of God.
Therefore, while our eyes wait to see the destined final day, we must call no one happy who is of mortal race, until he has crossed life’s border, free from pain.
Thou seek’st to part us, wrapping in soft words Hard thoughts.
To me, excessive silence seems to bode as ill as too much shouting.
Of evils current upon earth The worst is money. Money ’tis that sacks Cities, and drives men forth from hearth and home; Warps and seduces native innocence, And breeds a habit of dishonesty.
I say that this crime is holy.
I owe more to the dead, with whom I will spend a much longer time, than I will ever owe to the living.
Alas for the seed of man.
Yes I know sorrow. Know it far too well. My life is a tunnel choked by the sweepings of dread.
You are a woman marked for sorrow.
And remember that the captor is now the captive; the hunter is in the snare. What was won by stealth will not be kept.
For a man to help others with all his gifts and native strength: that is the noblest work.
O waste no fears on me; look to thyself.