A stoic of the woods, – a man without a tear.
For Beauty’s tears are lovelier than her smile.
O star-eyed Science, hast thou wander’d there, To waft us home the message of despair?
The prophet’s mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world – a sacred gift to man.
His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest.
Oh, how hard it is to find The one just suited to our mind!
Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep; Her march is o’er the mountain waves, Her home is on the deep.
It’s not about the body; you are consciousness. That’s what you are. Your consciousness is already out of your body. You don’t need to get out of your body, you just need to get into your consciousness.
A man who will not leave his room because he does not know how, or is afraid to open the door, is trapped just the same whether or not the door is locked.
Your belief systems limit your reality to a sub-set of the solution space that does not contain the answer.
I’ll meet the raging of the skies, but not an angry father.
What millions died that Caesar might be great!
Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.
Although no words can really help to ease the loss you bear, Just know that you are very close in every thought and prayer. To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.
The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
Where the Scriptures speak, we speak; where the Scriptures are silent, we are silent.
Our purpose is to grow up and become love.
The popularity of that baby-faced boy, who possessed not even the elements of a good actor, was a hallucination in the public mind, and a disgrace to our theatrical history.
But sad as angels for the good man’s sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in.
On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh, No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I, No harp like my own could so cheerily play, And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.