As Broad As It's Long

MODEST men must needs endure,

And the bold must humbly bow;

Thus thy fate's the same, be sure,

Whether bold or modest thou.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

August

When my eyes are weeds,

And my lips are petals, spinning

Down the wind that has beginning

Where the crumpled beeches start

In a fringe of salty reeds;

When my arms are elder-bushes,

And the rangy lilac pushes

Upward, upward through my heart;

Summer, do your worst!

Light your tinsel moon, and call on

Your performing stars to fall on

Headlong through your paper sky;

Nevermore shall I be cursed

By a flushed and amorous slattern,

With her dusty laces' pattern

Trailing, as she straggles by.

Dorothy Parker

Separation

THERE is a mountain and a wood between us,

Where the lone shepherd and late bird have seen us

Morning and noon and eventide repass.

Between us now the mountain and the wood

Seem standing darker than last year they stood,

And say we must not cross--alas! alas!

Walter Savage Landor

A Song Of Life

In the rapture of life and of living,

I lift up my head and rejoice,

And I thank the great Giver for giving

The soul of my gladness a voice.

In the glow of the glorious weather,

In the sweet-scented, sensuous air,

My burdens seem light as a feather –

They are nothing to bear.

In the strength and the glory of power,

In the pride and the pleasure of wealth

(For who dares dispute me my dower

Of talents and youth-time and health?) ,

I can laugh at the world and its sages –

I am greater than seers who are sad,

For he is most wise in all ages

Who knows how to be glad.

I lift up my eyes to Apollo,

The god of the beautiful days,

And my spirit soars off like a swallow,

And is lost in the light of its rays.

Are tou troubled and sad? I beseech you

Come out of the shadows of strife –

Come out in the sun while I teach you

The secret of life.

Come out of the world – come above it –

Up over its crosses and graves,

Though the green earth is fair and I love it,

We must love it as masters, not slaves.

Come up where the dust never rises –

But only the perfume of flowers –

And your life shall be glad with surprises

Of beautiful hours.

Come up where the rare golden wine is

Apollo distills in my sight,

And your life shall be happy as mine is,

And as full of delight.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Sonnet To Sleep

O soft embalmer of the still midnight!

Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,

Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,

Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;

O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,

In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes.

Or wait the Amen, ere thy poppy throws

Around my bed its lulling charities;

Then save me, or the passed day will shine

Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;

Save me from curious conscience, that still hoards

Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;

Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards,

And seal the hushed casket of my soul.

John Keats

Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine

 

Awake ye muses nine, sing me a strain divine,

Unwind the solemn twine, and tie my Valentine!

Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain,

For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain.

All things do go a courting, in earth, or sea, or air,

God hath made nothing single but thee in His world so fair!

The bride, and then the bridegroom, the two, and then the one,

Adam, and Eve, his consort, the moon, and then the sun;

The life doth prove the precept, who obey shall happy be,

Who will not serve the sovereign, be hanged on fatal tree.

The high do seek the lowly, the great do seek the small,

None cannot find who seeketh, on this terrestrial ball;

The bee doth court the flower, the flower his suit receives,

And they make merry wedding, whose guests are hundred leaves;

The wind doth woo the branches, the branches they are won,

And the father fond demandeth the maiden for his son.

The storm doth walk the seashore humming a mournful tune,

The wave with eye so pensive, looketh to see the moon,

Their spirits meet together, they make their solemn vows,

No more he singeth mournful, her sadness she doth lose.

The worm doth woo the mortal, death claims a living bride,

Night unto day is married, morn unto eventide;

Earth is a merry damsel, and heaven a knight so true,

And Earth is quite coquettish, and beseemeth in vain to sue.

Now to the application, to the reading of the roll,

To bringing thee to justice, and marshalling thy soul:

Thou art a human solo, a being cold, and lone,

Wilt have no kind companion, thou reap'st what thou hast sown.

Hast never silent hours, and minutes all too long,

And a deal of sad reflection, and wailing instead of song?

There's Sarah, and Eliza, and Emeline so fair,

And Harriet, and Susan, and she with curling hair!

Thine eyes are sadly blinded, but yet thou mayest see

Six true, and comely maidens sitting upon the tree;

Approach that tree with caution, then up it boldly climb,

And seize the one thou lovest, nor care for space, or time!

Then bear her to the greenwood, and build for her a bower,

And give her what she asketh, jewel, or bird, or flower—

And bring the fife, and trumpet, and beat upon the drum—

And bid the world Goodmorrow, and go to glory home!

Emily Dickinson

Jacinths And Jessamines

Jacinths and jessamines and jonquils sweet,

All odorous pale flowers from Orient lands,

No vain red roses strew I at thy feet,

Emblems of grief and thee, with reverent hands.

Mine is no madrigal of passionate joy,

Or orison of aught less chaste than tears.

Ruth on thy brow sits fairest. Its annoy

Rends not thy beauty's raiment, nor the years.

In thy shut lips what secrets! Who am I

Should seek a sign at that dread sanctuary?

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

On Looking Up By Chance At The Constellations

You'll wait a long, long time for anything much

To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud

And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves.

The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch,

Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud.

The planets seem to interfere in their curves

But nothing ever happens, no harm is done.

We may as well go patiently on with our life,

And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun

For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane.

It is true the longest drouth will end in rain,

The longest peace in China will end in strife.

Still it wouldn't reward the watcher to stay awake

In hopes of seeing the calm of heaven break

On his particular time and personal sight.

That calm seems certainly safe to last to-night.

Robert Frost

Unreasonable

The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore, all progress depends on the unreasonable man.

George Bernard Shaw

The only way

The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.

Oscar Wilde

Split

"The scientists split the atom; now the atom is splitting us."

Quentin Reynolds

Instead

When the future hinges on the next words that are said, do not let logic interfere, believe your heart instead.

Philip Robison

Equations

Equations are more important to me, because politics is for the present, but an equation is something for eternity.

Albert Einstein

Life is short

Life is short, the art long, opportunity fleeting, experiment treacherous, judgment difficult.

Hippocrates

Chance

There is no such thing as chance; and what seem to us merest accident springs from the deepest source of destiny.

Schiller, Johann Friedrich Von

Silence

Not every truth is the better for showing its face undisguised; and often silence is the wisest thing for a man to heed.

Pindar

Always dream

"Always dream and shoot higher than you know how to. Don't bother just to be better than your contemporaries or predecessors. Try to be better than yourself."

William Faulkner

In The Night

Where art thou, thou lost face,

Which, yet a little while, wert making mirth

At these new years which seemed too sad to be?

Where art thou fled which for a minute's space

Shut out the world and wert my world to me?

And now a corner of this idle Earth,

A broken shadow by the day forgot,

Is wide enough to be thy hiding place,

And thou art shrunk away and needest not

The darkness of this night to cover thee.

Where art thou hidden? In the boundless air

My hands go forth to thee, and search and feel

As through the universe. I hold the night

Caught in my arms, and yet thou art not there.

Where art thou? What if I should strike a light

So suddenly that thou couldst never steal

Back to thy shadows? What if I should find

Thee standing close to me with all thy hair

Trailing about me and thine eyes grown blind

With looking at me vainly through the night?

There are three rings upon thy hand to--night,

One with a sapphire stone, and one there is

Coiled like a snake, and one on which my name

Is written in strange gems. By this dim light

I cannot read if it be writ the same.

See, I have worn no other ring but this!

Why dost thou look at it with eyes estranged?

Is it not thine?--Ah, God! Thou readest right!

And it is changed, and thou and I are changed,

And I have written there another name.

Oh happiness, how has it slipped away!

We, who once lived and held it in our hand!

What is the rest that these new years can bring?

Did we not love it in our love's to--day,

And pleasure which was so divine a thing,

The sweetest and most strange to understand?

And that is why it left regret behind,

As though a wild bird suddenly should stay

A moment at our side and we should find

When we looked up that it had taken wing.

And thou, hast thou forgotten how to love?

Hast thou no kissing in thy lips? Thy tongue,

Has it no secret whisper for my ear?

I have been watching thee to see thee move

A little closer to my side in fear

Of the long night. Oh, there is room among

The pillows for thy head if thou wouldst sleep!

And thou art cold, and I would wrap my love

To my warm breast and so my vigil keep

And be alone with darkness and with her.

Thou standest with thy hand upon my heart,

As once thou used to stand, to feel it beat.

Doth it beat calmer now than in those days?

Thy foolish finger--tips will leave a smart,

If they so press upon my side. Thy gaze

Is burning me. Oh speak a word and cheat

This darkness into pain, if pain must be,

And wake me back to sorrow with a start,

For I am weary of the night and thee

And thy strange silence and thy stranger face.

Canst thou not speak? Thy tale was but begun.

How can I answer thee a tale untold?

Whisper it quick before the morning break.

How loud thou weepest! Listen, there is one

Dreaming beside me who must not awake.

Close in my ear !--Ah! child, thy lips are cold,

Because thou art forsaken.--Misery!

Is there not room enough beneath the sun

For her, and thee, and me?

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

At last, to be identified!

At last, to be identified!

At last, the lamps upon thy side

The rest of Life to see!

Past Midnight! Past the Morning Star!

Past Sunrise!

Ah, What leagues there were

Between our feet, and Day!

Emily Dickinson

How Many Bards Gild The Lapses Of Time!

How many bards gild the lapses of time!

A few of them have ever been the food

Of my delighted fancy,—I could brood

Over their beauties, earthly, or sublime:

And often, when I sit me down to rhyme,

These will in throngs before my mind intrude:

But no confusion, no disturbance rude

Do they occasion; 'tis a pleasing chime.

So the unnumbered sounds that evening store;

The songs of birds—the whispering of the leaves—

The voice of waters—the great bell that heaves

With solemn sound,—and thousand others more,

That distance of recognizance bereaves,

Makes pleasing music, and not wild uproar.

John Keats

A Sculptor

As the ambitious sculptor, tireless, lifts

Chisel and hammer to the block at hand,

Before my half-formed character I stand

And ply the shining tools of mental gifts.

I'll cut away a huge, unsightly side

Of selfishness, and smooth to curves of grace

The angles of ill-temper.

And no trace

Shall my sure hammer leave of silly pride.

Chip after chip must fall from vain desires,

And the sharp corners of my discontent

Be rounded into symmetry, and lent

Great harmony by faith that never tires.

Unfinished still, I must toil on and on,

Till the pale critic, Death, shall say, ''Tis done.'

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Rose Aylmer

Ah, what avails the sceptred race!

Ah, what the form divine!

What every virtue, every grace!

Rose Aylmer, all were thine.

Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes

May weep, but never see,

A night of memories and sighs

I consecrate to thee.

Walter Savage Landor

Anecdote

So silent I when Love was by

He yawned, and turned away;

But Sorrow clings to my apron-strings,

I have so much to say.

Dorothy Parker

April

Eyes tell, tell me, what you tell me,

telling something all too sweet,

making music out of beauty,

with a question hidden deep.

Still I think I know your meaning,

there behind your pupils’ brightness,

love and truth are your heart’s lightness,

that, instead of its own gleaming,

would so truly like to greet,

in a world of dullness, blindness,

one true look of human kindness,

where two kindred spirits meet.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Imagination

I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.

Albert Einstein

Worship

The more I study religions the more I am convinced that man never worshipped anything but himself.

Sir Richard Francis Burton

Noble life

Noble life demands a noble architecture for noble uses of noble men. Lack of culture means what it has always meant: ignoble civilization and therefore imminent downfall.

Frank Lloyd Wright

Dedicated

The dedicated life is the life worth living. You must give with your whole heart.

Anne Dillard

The center of the universe

When science discovers the center of the universe a lot of people will be disappointed to find they are not it.

Baily, Bernard

Caprice

The only difference between a caprice and a life-long passion is that the caprice lasts a little longer.

Wilde, Oscar

Better

Things will get better -- despite our efforts to improve them.

Rogers, Will

Have patience

Have patience. All things are difficult before they become easy.

Saadi

Sacred

Love's greatest gift is its ability to make everything it touches sacred.

Angelis, Barbara De

Language

Language is a virus from outer space.

Burroughs, William S.

The purpose of life

"The purpose of life, after all, is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experiences."

Eleanor Roosevelt

Answers In A Game Of Questions

THE LADY.

IN the small and great world too,

What most charms a woman's heart?

It is doubtless what is new,

For its blossoms joy impart;

Nobler far is what is true,

For fresh blossoms it can shoot

Even in the time of fruit.

THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN.

With the Nymphs in wood and cave

Paris was acquainted well,

Till Zeus sent, to make him rave,

Three of those in Heav'n who dwell;

And the choice more trouble gave

Than e'er fell to mortal lot,

Whether in old times or not.

THE EXPERIENCED.

Tenderly a woman view,

And thoult win her, take my word;

He who's quick and saucy too,

Will of all men be preferr'd;

Who ne'er seems as if he knew

If he pleases, if he charms,--

He 'tis injures, he 'tis harms.

THE CONTENTED.

Manifold is human strife,

Human passion, human pain;

Many a blessing yet is rife,

Many pleasures still remain.

Yet the greatest bliss in life,

And the richest prize we find,

Is a good, contented mind.

THE MERRY COUNSEL.

He by whom man's foolish will

Is each day review'd and blamed,

Who, when others fools are still,

Is himself a fool proclaim'd,--

Ne'er at mill was beast's back press'd

With a heavier load than he.

What I feel within my breast

That in truth's the thing for me!

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Afternoon

When I am old, and comforted,
And done with this desire,
With Memory to share my bed
And Peace to share my fire,

I'll comb my hair in scalloped bands
Beneath my laundered cap,
And watch my cool and fragile hands
Lie light upon my lap.

And I will have a sprigged gown
With lace to kiss my throat;
I'll draw my curtain to the town,
And hum a purring note.

And I'll forget the way of tears,
And rock, and stir my tea.
But oh, I wish those blessed years
Were further than they be!

Dorothy Parker

Resignation

WHY, why repine, my pensive friend,

At pleasures slipp'd away?

Some the stern Fates will never lend,

And all refuse to stay.

I see the rainbow in the sky,

The dew upon the grass;

I see them, and I ask not why

They glimmer or they pass.

With folded arms I linger not

To call them back; 'twere vain:

In this, or in some other spot,

I know they'll shine again.

Walter Savage Landor

A Pin

Oh, I know a certain lady who is reckoned with the good,

Yet she fills me with more terror than a raging lion would.

The little chills run up and down my spine whene’er we meet,

Though she seems a gentle creature, and she’s very trim and neat.

And she has a thousand virtues and not one acknowledged sin,

But she is the sort of person you could liken to a pin.

And she pricks you and she sticks you in a way that can’t be said.

If you seek for what has hurt you – why, you cannot find the head.

But she fills you with discomfort and exasperating pain.

If anybody asks you why, you really can’t explain!

A pin is such a tiny thing, of that there is no doubt,

Yet when it’s sticking in your flesh you’re wretched till it’s out.

She’s wonderfully observing – when she meets a pretty girl,

She is always sure to tell her if her hair is out of curl;

And she is so sympathetic to her friend who’s much admires,

She is often heard remarking, ‘Dear, you look so worn and tired.’

And she is an honest critic, for on yesterday she eyed

The new dress I was airing with a woman’s natural pride,

And she said, ‘Oh, how becoming! ’ and then gently added, ‘it

Is really a misfortune that the basque is such a fit.’

Then she said, ‘If you heard me yester eve, I’m sure, my friend,

You would say I was a champion who knows how to defend.’

And she left me with the feeling – most unpleasant, I aver –

That the whole world would despise me is it hadn’t been for her.

Whenever I encounter her, in such a nameless way

She gives me the impression I am at my worst that day.

And the hat that was imported (and cost me half a sonnet) ,

With just one glance from her round eyes becomes a Bowery bonnet.

She is always bright and smiling, sharp and pointed for a thrust;

Use does not seem to blunt her point, nor does she gather rust.

Oh! I wish some hapless specimen of mankind would begin

To tidy up the world for me, by picking up this pin!

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

To ******

Had I a man's fair form, then might my sighs

Be echoed swiftly through that ivory shell

Thine ear, and find thy gentle heart; so well

Would passion arm me for the enterprize:

But ah! I am no knight whose foeman dies;

No cuirass glistens on my bosom's swell;

I am no happy shepherd of the dell

Whose lips have trembled with a maiden's eyes.

Yet must I doat upon thee,--call thee sweet,

Sweeter by far than Hybla's honied roses

When steep'd in dew rich to intoxication.

Ah! I will taste that dew, for me 'tis meet,

And when the moon her pallid face discloses,

I'll gather some by spells, and incantation.

John Keats

As Sleigh Bells seem in summer

As Sleigh Bells seem in summer

Or Bees, at Christmas show—

So fairy—so fictitious

The individuals do

Repealed from observation—

A Party that we knew—

More distant in an instant

Than Dawn in Timbuctoo.

Emily Dickinson

If We Had Met

If we had met when leaves were green,

And fate to us less hard had proved,

And naught had been of what has been,

We might have loved as none have loved.

If we had met as girl and boy,

The world of pleasure at our feet,

Our joy had been a perfect joy;

We might have met, but did not meet.

Nor less in youth's full passionate day,

A woman you and I a man,

We might have loved and found a way

No laws could check, no vows could ban.

Too late! Too sad! A year ago,

Even then perhaps, in spite of fate

It might have been,--but ah! not now,

I dare not love you, 'tis too late.

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

False though She be

False though she be to me and love,

...I'll ne'er pursue revenge;

For still the charmer I approve,

...Though I deplore her change.

In hours of bliss we oft have met;

...They could not always last;

And though the present I regret,

...I'm grateful for the past.

William Congreve

A kind of integrity

We do on stage things that are supposed to happen off. Which is a kind of integrity, if you look on every exit as being an entrance somewhere else.

Tom Stoppard

Appreciation

Appreciation is a wonderful thing: It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well.

Voltaire

Unfit

He who dreads hostility too much is unfit to rule.

Seneca

Wrest

As a man can drink water from any side of a full tank, so the skilled theologian can wrest from any scripture that which will serve his purpose.

Bhagavad Gita

Possessed

No one worth possessing can be quite possessed.

Sara Teasdale

Disorientation

Every orientation presupposes a disorientation.

Enzensberger, Hans Magnus