Alfred Lord Tennyson--Ulysses

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers;
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle —
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me —
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads — you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Moby Dick--Chapter 1-Loomings

With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.

Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.

And still deeper the meaning of that story of Narcissus, who because he could not grasp the tormenting, mild image he saw in the fountain, plunged into it and was drowned. But that same image, we ourselves see in all rivers and oceans. It is the image of the ungraspable phantom of life; and this is the key to it all.

The transition is a keen one, I assure you, from a schoolmaster to a sailor, and requires a strong decoction of Seneca and the Stoics to enable you to grin and bear it. But even this wears off in time.

Who ain't a slave? Tell me that. Well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about—however they may thump and punch me about, I have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way—either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other's shoulder-blades, and be content.

Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces—though I cannot tell why this was exactly; yet, now that I recall all the circumstances, I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgment

Shakespeare--Sonnet 87

13. Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
14. In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.

Shakespeare--Sonnet 83

13. There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
14. Than all the poets can in praise devise.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow--From My Armchair

Am I a king, that I should call my own
This splendid ebon throne?
Or by what reason, or what right divine,
Can I proclaim it mine?

Only, perhaps, by right divine of song
It may to me belong;
Only because the spreading chestnut tree
Of old was sung by me.

Well I remember it in all its prime,
When in the summer-time
The affluent foliage of its branches made
A cavern of cool shade.

There, by the blacksmith's forge, beside the street,
Its blossoms white and sweet
Enticed the bees, until it seemed alive,
And murmured like a hive.

And when the winds of autumn, with a shout,
Tossed its great arms about,
The shining chestnuts, bursting from the sheath,
Dropped to the ground beneath.

And now some fragments of its branches bare,
Shaped as a stately chair,
Have by my hearthstone found a home at last,
And whisper of the past.

The Danish king could not in all his pride
Repel the ocean tide,
But, seated in this chair, I can in rhyme
Roll back the tide of Time.

I see again, as one in vision sees,
The blossoms and the bees,
And hear the children's voices shout and call,
And the brown chestnuts fall.

I see the smithy with its fires aglow,
I hear the bellows blow,
And the shrill hammers on the anvil beat
The iron white with heat!

And thus, dear children, have ye made for me
This day a jubilee,
And to my more than three-score years and ten
Brought back my youth again.

The heart hath its own memory, like the mind,
And in it are enshrined
The precious keepsakes, into which is wrought
The giver's loving thought.

Only your love and your remembrance could
Give life to this dead wood,
And make these branches, leafless now so long,
Blossom again in song.

Emily Dickinson--Life--60

A Shady friend for Torrid days
Is easier to find
Than one of higher temperature
For frigid hour of mind.

Emily Dickinson--Life--58

Portraits are to daily faces
As an Evening West
To a fine, pedantic sunshine
In a satin Vest.

Emily Dickinson--Life--56

FAITH is a fine invention
For Gentleman who see;
But microscopes are prudent
In an emergency!

Emily Dickinsons--Life--LIV

Experiment to me
Is every one I meet
If it contain a Kernel?
The Figure of a Nut

Presents upon a Tree
Equally plausibly,
But Meat within, is requisite
To Squirrels, and to Me.

Emily Dickinsons--Life--XLII

Surgeons must be very careful
When they take the knife!
Underneath their fine incisions
Stirs the Culprit -- Life!

Emily Dickinson--Life-XLI

The Soul unto itself
Is an imperial friend  – 
Or the most agonizing Spy  – 
An Enemy  –  could send  –

Secure against its own  – 
No treason it can fear  – 
Itself  –  its Sovereign  –  of itself
The Soul should stand in Awe  – 

Friendship-Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Oh, the comfort – the inexpressible comfort
of feeling safe with a person,
Having neither to weigh thoughts,
Nor measure words – but pouring them
All right out – just as they are -
Chaff and grain together -
Certain that a faithful hand will
Take and sift them -
Keep what is worth keeping -
And with a breath of kindness
Blow the rest away.

Reward of Service--Elizabeth Barrett Browning

The sweetest lives are those to duty wed,
Whose deeds both great and small
Are close-knit strands of an unbroken thread,
Where love ennobles all.
The world may sound no trumpets, ring no bells,
The Book of Life the slurring record tells.

Thy love shall chant its own beatitudes,
After its own like working. A child's kiss
Set on thy singing lips shall make thee glad;
A poor man served by thee shall make thee rich;
A sick man helped by thee shall make thee strong;
Thou shalt be served thyself by every sense
Of service which thou renderest.

Light-Francis W. Bourdillon

The Night has a thousand eyes,
And the Day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.


The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.

Love-Roy Croft

I love you
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am
When I am with you.

I love you,
Not only for what
You have made of yourself,
But for what
You are making of me.

I love you
For the part of me
That you bring out;

I love you
For putting your hand
Into my heaped-up heart
And passing over
All the foolish, weak things
That you can't help
Dimly seeing there,

And for drawing out
Into the light
All the beautiful belongings
That no one else had looked
Quite far enough to find

I love you because you
Are helping me to make
Of the lumber of my life
Not a tavern
But a temple.

Out of the works
Of my every day
Not a reproach
But a song.

I love you
Because you have done
More than any creed
Could have done
To make me good.
And more than any fate
Could have done
To make me happy.

You have done it
Without a touch,
Without a word,
Without a sign.

You have done it
By being yourself.
Perhaps that is what
Being a friend means,
After all.

Shakespeare--Sonnet 80

1. O! how I faint when I of you do write,
2. Knowing a better spirit doth use your name,
3. And in the praise thereof spends all his might,
4. To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame.
5. But since your worth, wide as the ocean is,
6. The humble as the proudest sail doth bear,
7. My saucy bark, inferior far to his,
8. On your broad main doth wilfully appear.
9. Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat,
10. Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride;
11. Or, being wracked, I am a worthless boat,
12. He of tall building, and of goodly pride:
13. Then if he thrive and I be cast away,
14. The worst was this, my love was my decay.

Shakespeare--Sonnet 78

1. So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse,
2. And found such fair assistance in my verse
3. As every alien pen hath got my use
4. And under thee their poesy disperse.
5. Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing
6. And heavy ignorance aloft to fly,
7. Have added feathers to the learned's wing
8. And given grace a double majesty.
9. Yet be most proud of that which I compile,
10. Whose influence is thine, and born of thee:
11. In others' works thou dost but mend the style,
12. And arts with thy sweet graces graced be;
13. But thou art all my art, and dost advance
14. As high as learning, my rude ignorance.

Shakespeare--Sonnet 75

1. So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
2. Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;
3. And for the peace of you I hold such strife
4. As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.
5. Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
6. Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;
7. Now counting best to be with you alone,
8. Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure:
9. Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,
10. And by and by clean starved for a look;
11. Possessing or pursuing no delight
12. Save what is had, or must from you be took.
13. Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
14. Or gluttoning on all, or all away.

Shakespeare--Sonnet 74

13. The worth of that is that which it contains,
14. And that is this, and this with thee remains.

Shakespeare--Sonnet 73

9. In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
10. That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
11. As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
12. Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
13. This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
14. To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.

Shakespeare-Sonnet 71

1. No longer mourn for me when I am dead
2. Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
3. Give warning to the world that I am fled
4. From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell:
5. Nay, if you read this line, remember not
6. The hand that writ it, for I love you so,
7. That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
8. If thinking on me then should make you woe.
9. O! if, I say, you look upon this verse,
10. When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
11. Do not so much as my poor name rehearse;
12. But let your love even with my life decay;
13. Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
14. And mock you with me after I am gone.

Shakespeare--Sonnet 70

1. That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
2. For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
3. The ornament of beauty is suspect,
4. A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
5. So thou be good, slander doth but approve
6. Thy worth the greater, being wooed of time;
7. For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,
8. And thou present'st a pure unstained prime.
9. Thou hast passed by the ambush of young days
10. Either not assailed, or victor being charged;
11. Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,
12. To tie up envy, evermore enlarged,
13. If some suspect of ill masked not thy show,
14. Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe.

Shakespeare-Sonnet 66

1. Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
2. As to behold desert a beggar born,
3. And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
4. And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
5. And gilded honour shamefully misplac'd,
6. And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
7. And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,
8. And strength by limping sway disabled
9. And art made tongue-tied by authority,
10. And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
11. And simple truth miscalled simplicity,
12. And captive good attending captain ill:
13. Tir'd with all these, from these would I be gone,
14. Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.

Percy Shelley--Love's Philosophy

The Fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law devine
In one another's being mingle -
Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother:
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea -
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

Emily Dickinson--Life--XXI

He ate and drank the precious Words—
His Spirit grew robust—
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was Dust—

He danced along the dingy Days
And this Bequest of Wings
Was but a Book—What Liberty
A loosened spirit brings—

Emily Dickinson-Life XIX

Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there was
A time when it was not. It has no future but itself,
Its infinite realms contain
Its past, enlightened to perceive
New periods of pain.

Emily Dickinson-Life XVI

To fight aloud, is very brave --
But gallanter, I know
Who charge within the bosom
The Cavalry of Woe --

Who win, and nations do not see --
Who fall -- and none observe --
Whose dying eyes, no Country
Regards with patriot love --

We trust, in plumed procession
For such, the Angels go --
Rank after Rank, with even feet --
And Uniforms of Snow.

Emily Dickinson-Life-XI

Much Madness is divinest Sense
To a discerning Eye
Much Sense the starkest Madness
'Tis the Majority
In this, as All, prevail
Assent and you are sane
Demur -- you're straightway dangerous
And handled with a Chain 

Shakespeare--Sonnet 60

1. Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,
2. So do our minutes hasten to their end;
3. Each changing place with that which goes before,
4. In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
5. Nativity, once in the main of light,
6. Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd,
7. Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight,
8. And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
9. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
10. And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
11. Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
12. And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
13. And yet to times in hope, my verse shall stand
14. Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand

Shakespeare--Sonnet 56

1. Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
2. Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
3. Which but to-day by feeding is allayed,
4. To-morrow sharpened in his former might:
5. So, love, be thou, although to-day thou fill
6. Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness,
7. To-morrow see again, and do not kill
8. The spirit of love, with a perpetual dulness.
9. Let this sad interim like the ocean be
10. Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
11. Come daily to the banks, that when they see
12. Return of love, more blest may be the view;
13. As call it winter, which being full of care,
14. Makes summer's welcome, thrice more wished, more rare.

Shakespeare--Sonnet 55

1. Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
2. Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme;
3. But you shall shine more bright in these contents
4. Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time.
5. When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
6. And broils root out the work of masonry,
7. Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn
8. The living record of your memory.
9. 'Gainst death, and all oblivious enmity
10. Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room
11. Even in the eyes of all posterity
12. That wear this world out to the ending doom.
13. So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
14. You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes.

Shakespeare--Sonnet 54

1. O! how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
2. By that sweet ornament which truth doth give.
3. The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
4. For that sweet odour, which doth in it live.
5. The canker blooms have full as deep a dye
6. As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
7. Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
8. When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:
9. But, for their virtue only is their show,
10. They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade;
11. Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
12. Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
13. And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
14. When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.

Shakespeare--Sonnet 52

1. So am I as the rich, whose blessed key,
2. Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,
3. The which he will not every hour survey,
4. For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.
5. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,
6. Since, seldom coming in the long year set,
7. Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,
8. Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
9. So is the time that keeps you as my chest,
10. Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,
11. To make some special instant special-blest,
12. By new unfolding his imprison'd pride.
13. Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope,
14. Being had, to triumph, being lacked, to hope.

Love Me Little, Love Me Long

ove me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.
Love that is too hot and strong

Burneth soon to waste.
Still, I would not have thee cold,
Not too backward, nor too bold;
Love that lasteth till tis old
Fadeth not in haste.

Love me little, love me long,

Is the burden of my song.

If thou lovest me too much,
It will not prove as true as touch;
Love me little, more than such,

For I fear the end.
I am with little well content,
And a little from thee sent
Is enough, with true intent
To be steadfast friend.

Love me little, love me long,

Is the burden of my song.

Say thou lov'st me while thou live;
I to thee my love will give,
Never dreaming to deceive

Whiles that life endures.
Nay, and after death, in sooth,
I to thee will keep my truth,
As now, when in my May of youth;
This my love assures.

Love me little, love me long,

Is the burden of my song.

Constant love is moderate ever,
And it will through life persever;
Give me that, with true endeavor

I will it restore.
A suit of durance let it be,
For all weathers that for me,
For the land or for the sea,
Lasting evermore.

Love me little, love me long,

Is the burden of my song.

Winter's cold, or summer's heat,
Autumn's tempests on it beat,
It can never know defeat,

Never can rebel.
Such the love that I would gain,
Such the love, I tell thee plain,
Though must give, or woo in vain;
So to thee, farewell!

Love me little, love me long,
Is the burden of my song.

Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms--Thomas Moore

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day
Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy-gifts fading away,
Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And they cheeks unprofaned by a tear,
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear;
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turned when he rose.

John Cacioppo

As cultures encompass more variety in their mores, the absence of narrowly defined and rigidly enforced standards places even more of a burden on the brain's executive function, not only to guide self-regulation, but to calibrate, discern, and fine-tune appropriate responses.

Emily Dickinson-Life-I

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory!

As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear!

Shakespeare-Sonnet 47

1. Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,
2. And each doth good turns now unto the other:
3. When that mine eye is famish'd for a look,
4. Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,
5. With my love's picture then my eye doth feast,
6. And to the painted banquet bids my heart;
7. Another time mine eye is my heart's guest,
8. And in his thoughts of love doth share a part:
9. So, either by thy picture or my love,
10. Thy self away, art present still with me;
11. For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
12. And I am still with them, and they with thee;
13. Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
14. Awakes my heart, to heart's and eyes' delight.

Shakespeare-Sonnet 44

1. If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,
2. Injurious distance should not stop my way;
3. For then despite of space I would be brought,
4. From limits far remote, where thou dost stay.
5. No matter then although my foot did stand
6. Upon the farthest earth removed from thee;
7. For nimble thought can jump both sea and land
8. As soon as think the place where he would be.
9. But ah! thought kills me that I am not thought,
10. To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,
11.But that, so much of earth and water wrought,
12. I must attend time's leisure with my moan,
13.Receiving nought by elements so slow
14. But heavy tears, badges of either's woe.

Shakespeare-Sonnet 43

13.All days are nights to see till I see thee,
14.And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

Theodore Roosevelt--The Strenuous Life

http://www.bartleby.com/58/1.html

Seneca's Premeditation

The wise will start each day with the thought…

Fortune gives us nothing which we can really own.

Nothing, whether public or private, is stable; the destines of men, no less than those of cities, are in a whirl.

Whatever structure has been reared by a long sequence of years, at the cost of great toil and through the great kindness of the gods, is scattered and dispersed in a single day. No, he who has said ‘a day’ has granted too long a postponement to swift misfortune; an hour, an instant of time, suffices for the overthrow of empires.

How often have cities in Asia, how often in Achaia, been laid low by a single shock of earthquake? How many towns in Syria, how many in Macedonia, have been swallowed up? How often has this kind of devastation laid Cyprus in ruins?

We live in the middle of things which have all been destined to die.

Mortal have you been born, to mortals have you given birth.

Reckon on everything, expect everything.

Rudyard Kipling-If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

Shakespeare-Sonnet 40

11. And yet, love knows it is a greater grief
12. To bear love's wrong, than hate's known injury.

Shakespeare-Sonnet 39

1. O! how thy worth with manners may I sing,
2. When thou art all the better part of me?
3. What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?
4. And what is't but mine own when I praise thee?
5. Even for this, let us divided live,
6. And our dear love lose name of single one,
7. That by this separation I may give
8. That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone.
9. O absence! what a torment wouldst thou prove,
10. Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave,
11. To entertain the time with thoughts of love,
12. Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,
13. And that thou teachest how to make one twain,
14. By praising him here who doth hence remain.

Pushkin-Thoughts

If I walk the noisy streets,
Or enter a many thronged church,
Or sit among the wild young generation,
I give way to my thoughts.

I say to myself: the years are fleeting,
And however many there seem to be,
We must all go under the eternal vault,
And someone's hour is already at hand.

When I look at a solitary oak
I think: the patriarch of the woods.
It will outlive my forgotten age
As it outlived that of my grandfathers'.

If I dandle a young infant,
Immediately I think: farewell!
I will yield my place to you,
For I must fade while your flower blooms.

Each day, and every hour
I habitually follow in my thoughts,
Trying to guess from their number
The year which brings my death.

And where will fate send death to me?
In battle, in my travels, or on the seas?
Or will the neighbouring valley
Receive my chilled ashes?

And although to the senseless body
It is indifferent wherever it rots,
Yet close to my beloved countryside
I still would prefer to rest.

And let it be, beside the grave's vault
That young life forever will be playing,
And impartial, indifferent nature
Eternally be shining in beauty.

Shakespeare-Sonnet Twenty-Nine

1. When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
2. I all alone beweep my outcast state,
3. And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
4. And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
5. Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
6. Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
7. Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
8. With what I most enjoy contented least;
9. Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
10. Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
11. Like to the lark at break of day arising
12. From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
13. For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
14. That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Shakespeare-Sonnet Twenty-Seven

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:
For then my thoughts--from far where I abide--
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

Shakespeare-Sonnet Twenty-Five

Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled:
Then happy I, that love and am beloved
Where I may not remove nor be removed.

Shakespeare- Sonnet Seventeen

If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.'