Quotes about tore, page 12
VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Canto the Second
I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.
II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.
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poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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A Friend
Old age is gentle as an autumn morn;
The harvest over, you will put the plough
Into another, stronger hand, and watch
The sowing you were wont to do.
Old age
Is like an alabaster room, with soft
White curtains. All is light, but light so mild,
So quiet, that it cannot hurt.
The pangs
Are hushed, for life is wild no more with strife,
Nor breathless uphill work, nor heavy with
The brewing tempests, which have torn away
So much, that nothing more remains to fear.
What once was hope, is gone. You know. You saw
The worst, and not a sigh is left of all
The heavy sighs that tore your heart, and not
A tear of all those tears that burnt your cheeks,
And ploughed the forrows into them.
You see
How others work again and weep again,
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poem by Carmen Sylva
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Lessons In Hunger
'Do you like me?'
I asked the blue blazer.
No answer.
Silence bounced out of his books.
Silence fell off his tongue
and sat between us
and clogged my throat.
It slaughtered my trust.
It tore cigarettes out of my mouth.
We exchanged blind words,
and I did not cry,
and I did not beg,
blackness lunged in my heart,
and something that had been good,
a sort of kindly oxygen,
turned into a gas oven.
Do you like me?
How absurd!
What's a question like that?
What's a silence like that?
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poem by Anne Sexton
Added by Dan Costinaş
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There was an Old Man of Peru,
Who never knew what he should do;
So he tore off his hair,
And behaved like a bear,
That intrinsic Old Man of Peru.
limerick by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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There was Old Man in a pew,
Whose waistcoat was spotted with blue;
But he tore it in pieces
To give to his nieces,
That cheerful Old Man in a pew.
limerick by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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Mater
There, within the dusty air.
Up there, millions of lights away,
Is where I heard an inconceivable pain that had
Never been uttered before.
Down there, between the shoulders of Jupiter and
Saturn is where the scream found me.
And when it did, it tore my heart to pieces and
Drained me of the empathy that I ever bestowed;
It surrounded me, ambushed me
And coiled around my soul and drained me…
Called upon me for my ever enduring sympathy.
There, where the fearless star shines rays of warmth and life,
Down there, I found a site that I had never set eyes upon.
A woman, naked, sat on a warm rock that burned blisters onto her tender flesh,
But she sat on it all the while; as if utterly oblivious.
Her hair was on fire and sent a cloud of smoke breathing through the sky.
Her screams turned into madness and
When I came closer, I found that it was Mater.
Her arms were chained by heavy hot cold chains that melted her flesh,
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poem by Tjizembua Tjikuzu
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I did my work slowly, drop by drop. I tore it out of me by pieces.
quote by Maurice Ravel
Added by Lucian Velea
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I thought I had to show all my stuff and I almost tore the boards of the grandstand with my fastball.
quote by Cy Young
Added by Lucian Velea
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I tore myself away from the safe comfort of certainties through my love for the truth; and truth rewarded me.
quote by Simone de Beauvoir
Added by Lucian Velea
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