Suppose it should turn out that no such person as Christ ever lived. What harm would that do justice or mercy? Wouldn't the tear of pity be as pure as now, and wouldn't justice, holding aloft her scales, from which she blows even the dust of prejudic...
White in the moon the long road lies, The moon stands blank above; White in the moon the long road lies That leads me from my love. Still hangs the hedge without a gust, Still, still the shadows stay: My feet upon the moonlit dust Pursue the ceaseles...
As I would soon learn myself, cleaning up what a parent leaves behind stirs up dust, both literal and metaphorical. It dredges up memories. You feel like you’re a kid again, poking around in your parents’ closet, only this time there’s no chanc...
Your love renders you impatient and disturbed. With such sincerity you have placed your head at her feet that you are oblivious to the world. When in the eyes of your beloved riches don't count, gold and dust are as one to you. You say that she dwell...
At these words I was utterly stupefied and terror-stricken. I thought to myself, “With what tongue shall I address such majesty, seeing that all men ought to tremble in the presence of even an earthly prince? Who am I, that I should lift up mine ey...
Obstinate are the trammels, but my heart aches when I try to break them. Freedom is all I want, but to hope for it I feel ashamed. I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee, and that thou art my best friend, but I have not the heart to sweep away...
Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back. That's part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads - at least that's where I imagine it - there's a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks ...
You can make a successful run for political office in this country without an especially thick résumé, any exceptional talent for expressing yourself, a noteworthy education or, for that matter, a basic grasp of science. But you better have religio...
I tell you hopeless grief is passionless, That only men incredulous of despair, Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness In souls, as countries, lieth sil...
Writing is something that you don't know how to do. You sit down and it's something that happens, or it may not happen. So, how can you teach anybody how to write? It's beyond me, because you yourself don't even know if you're going to be able to. I'...
He had a book to finish. Ten-thousand words. The other ninety thousand had been difficult. This last tenth seemed impossible. His plot had become derailed. He was unable to see his way through the smoke and coke dust of a mythical railway track that ...
Casares: Stay by my side as my light grows dim /as my blood slows down and my nerves shatter with stabbing pain / as my heart grows weak / and the wheels of my being turn slowly / Stay by my side /as my fragile body is racked by pain /which verges on...
Maj. Duncan Heyward: Might I inquire after the situation sir, given that I've seen the French engineering from the ridge above. Colonel Munro: The situation is that his guns are bigger than mine and he has more of them. We keep our heads down while h...
Principal Turner: Miss Riley, our job is to give these kids an education. Miss Riley: Mmm-hmm. Principal Turner: Not false hopes. Miss Riley: False hopes? Do you want me to sit quiet, let 'em breathe in coal dust the rest of their life? Principal Tur...
Norma Desmond: You're a writer, you said. Joe Gillis: Why? Norma Desmond: Are you or aren't you? Joe Gillis: That's what it says on my Guild card. Norma Desmond: And you have written pictures, haven't you? Joe Gillis: I sure have. Want a list of my c...
Hiro: Wow, that's a whole lot of tungsten carbide. Honey Lemon: Five hundred *pounds* of it! C'mere c'mere c'mere, you're gonna *love* this! A dash of perchloric acid, a smidgen of cobalt, a hint of hydrogen peroxide, SUPER HEATED TO FIVE HUNDRED KEL...
A.E.Housman' No one, not even Cambridge was to blame (Blame if you like the human situation): Heart-injured in North London, he became The Latin Scholar of his generation. Deliberately he chose the dry-as-dust, Kept tears like dirty postcards in a dr...
What is literature but the expression of moods by the vehicle of symbol and incident? And are there not moods which need heaven, hell, purgatory, and faeryland for their expression, no less than this dilapidated earth? Nay, are there not moods which ...
The size and age of the Cosmos are beyond ordinary human understanding. Lost somewhere between immensity and eternity is our tiny planetary home. In a cosmic perspective, most human concerns seem insignificant, even petty. And yet our species is youn...
Some pasts exist as a fog that rolls in and out of the present, formed not by air that condenses into mist but memories that condense into tiny doors that open to forgotten moments. Maybe you glance at a stranger on a crowded street who reminds you o...
