Quotes about sic, page 7
VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator
Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!
It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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The law is sic a ass - a idiot.
quote by Charles Dickens
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cheer Up! Young Man!
Macte animo!
Generose puer sic itur ad astra!
cheer up
young man
do not grieve
there is a way
to the heavens,
here
it is inside
the heart
a pure heart
that sees
the true
face of God.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Epitaphium Alterum
Hic etiam jacet,
Qui totum novennium vixit,
Puss.
Siste paulisper,
Qui præteriturus es,
Et tecum sic reputa--
Hunc neque canis venaticus,
Nec plumbum missile,
Nec laqueus,
Nec imbres nimii,
Confecêre:
Tamen mortuus est--
Et moriar ego.
poem by William Cowper
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Epitaphium Alterum
Hic etiam jacet,
Qui totum novennium vixit,
Puss.
Siste paulisper,
Qui præteriturus es,
Et tecum sic reputa--
Hunc neque canis venaticus,
Nec plumbum missile,
Nec laqueus,
Nec imbres nimii,
Confecêre:
Tamen mortuus est--
Et moriar ego.
poem by William Cowper
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Mar. Lib. Iv. Ep. 33.
MAR. LIB. IV. EP. 33.
Et latet et lucet, Phaetontide condita gutta
Ut videatur apis nectare clausa suo.
Sic modo, quae fuerat vita contempta manente,
Funeribus facta est jam preciosa suis.
IN ENGLISH.
Both lurks and shines, hid in an amber tear,
The bee, in her own nectar prisoner;
So she, who in her life time was contemn'd,
Ev'n in her very funerals is gemm'd.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Mart. Ep. XV. Lib. 6.
MART. EP. XV. LIB. 6.
Dum Phaetontea formica vagatur in umbra,
Implicuit tenuem succina gutta feram,
Dignum tantorum pretium tulit illa laborum:
Credibile est ipsam sic voluisse mori.
ENGLISHED.
Whilst in an amber-shade the ant doth feast,
A gummy drop ensnares the small wild-beast,
A full reward of all her toyls hath she;
'Tis to be thought she would her self so die.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Our Firemen
Lines delivered at a Firemen's Soiriee [sic] in the days of the hand engines.
Our youth and beauty here arranged,
In honor of the Fire Brigade ;
And now every man is ready
To obey the bugle of Brady.
And always willing for to ralley
At the trumpet sound of Walley,
To the fire they rush at once,
Led on by gallant Captain Vance.
The firemen, now, their only strife,
It seems to be a race for life,
Which engine first shall reach the fire
And cause the wild flames to expire.
poem by James McIntyre
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Come, Let Me Take Thee to My Breast
Come, let me take thee to my breast,
And pledge we ne'er shall sunder;
And I shall spurn as vilest dust
The world's wealth and grandeur:
And do I hear my Jeanie own
That equal transports move her?
I ask for dearest life alone,
That I may live to love her.
Thus, in my arms, wi' a' her charms,
I clasp my countless treasure;
I'll seek nae mair o' Heav'n to share,
Tha sic a moment's pleasure:
And by thy e'en sae bonie blue,
I swear I'm thine for ever!
And on thy lips I seal my vow,
And break it shall I never.
poem by Robert Burns
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In Obitum Honoratissimi Viri, Rogeri Manwood, Militis, Quaestorii Reginalis Capitalis Bareonis
NOCTIVAGI terror, ganeonis triste flagellum,
Et Jovis Alcides, rigido vulturque latroni,
Urna subtegitur. Scelerum, gaudete, nepotes!
Insons, luctifica sparsis cervice capillis,
Plange! fori lumen, venerandae gloria legis,
Occidit: heu, secum effoetas Acherontis ad oras
Multa abiit virtus. Pro tot virtutibus uni,
Livor, parce viro; non audacissimus esto
Illius in cineres, cujus tot millia vultus
Mortalium attonuit: sic cum te nuntia Ditis
Vulneret exsanguis, feliciter ossa quiescant,
Famaque marmorei superet monumenta sepulcri.
poem by Christopher Marlowe
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