Latest quotes, page 2
we wake up each day
to say good night.
we come together
to say goodbye.
Dull: Which is the duke's own person?
Berowne: This, fellow: what wouldst?
Dull: I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his grace's tharborough: but I would see his own person in flesh and blood.
Hope, like faith, is nothing if it is not courageous; it is nothing if it is not ridiculous.
When my own time comes to join the choir invisible or whatever, God forbid, I hope someone will say, "He's up in Heaven now." Who really knows? I could have dreamed all this. My epitaph in any case? "Everything was beautiful. Nothing hurt." I will have gotten off so light, whatever the heck it is that was going on.
I have heard something said on this and a former occasion about allegiance to the South. I know no South, no North, no East, no West, to which I owe any allegiance. I owe allegiance to two sovereignty, and only two: one is the sovereignty of this Union, and the other is the sovereignty of the state of Kentucky. My allegiance is to this Union and to my state; but if gentlemen suppose they can exact from me an acknowledgement of allegiance to any ideal or future contemplated confederacy of the South, I here declare that I owe no allegiance to it; nor will I, for one, come under any such allegiance if I can avoid it.
If we do not learn to sacrifice small differences of opinion, we can never act together. Every man cannot have his way in all things. If his own opinion prevails at some times, he should acquiesce on seeing that of others preponderate at others. Without this mutual disposition we are disjointed individuals, but not a society.
The purblind majority quite honestly believed that literature was meant to mimic human life, and that it did so. And in consequence, their love-affairs, their maxims, their so-called natural ties and instincts, and above all, their wickedness, became just so many bungling plagiarisms from something they had read, in a novel or a Bible or a poem or a newspaper. People progressed from the kindergarten to the cemetery assuming that their emotion at every crisis was what books taught them was the appropriate emotion, and without noticing that it was in reality something quite different. Human life was a distorting tarnished mirror held up to literature: this much at least of Wilde's old paradox — that life mimicked art — was indisputable. Human life,
very clumsily, tried to reproduce the printed word.
Irony is the gaiety of reflection and the joy of wisdom.
all fire is the same fire.
all life is the same life.
all days are the same day.
it is perpetually re-creating itself, appearing differently
Dadaism is a characteristic symptom of the disordered modern world. It was first inspired by the chaos and collapse of Europe during the war.