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Quotes about abnegation

Moro

You are like the zoology that i learnt at school,
But i need an aardvark to back me up in Aachen;
And like the hypothetical act to expose your muse.

Tell me, do you allow your cat to guard your fried fish? !
Then think twice;
For the abnegation of one's life is like the bush on fire!

I am Moro, and i have the words of my mind;
But your body is like the zoology that i learnt in school.

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From all evil against which the law bars you, you should be barred, at an infinite distance, by honour, by conscience, and nobility. Does the law require patriotism, philanthropy, self-abnegation, public service, purity of purpose, devotion to the needs of others who have been placed in the world below you? The law is a great thing, — because men are poor and weak, and bad. And it is great, because where it exists in its strength, no tyrant can be above it. But between you and me there should be no mention of law as the guide of conduct. Speak to me of honour, of duty, and of nobility; and tell me what they require of you.

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The Martyrs

Oh ye, who found in men's brief ways no sign
Of strength or help, so cast them forth, and threw
Your whole souls up to one ye deemed most true,
Nor failed nor doubted but held fast your line,
Seeing before you that divine face shine;
Shall we not mourn, when yours are now so few,
Those sterner days, when all men yearned to you,
White souls whose beauty made their world divine:

Yet still across life's tangled storms we see,
Following the cross, your pale procession led,
One hope, one end, all others sacrificed,
Self-abnegation, love, humility,
Your faces shining toward the bended head,
The wounded hands and patient feet of Christ.

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Empower Dissent 13/11/2009

We can’t be forced to join what we abhor
I shall rejoice in the good luck of friends’
success in being bureaucrats effectively
without berating me for failing to succeed,
but such success entails an abnegation
of the me I know I am

I can’t conform in meeting norms, accept
the pain and shame of tacit punishment
conditionally to keep an independent mind,
I’ll never get the accolades I didn’t earn
while I’m confirmed the office dunce

Everything I do and say still contravenes
the rules of protocol; one day, maybe, my
writings will empower the dissidents who
wait for stirring words to make them brave …

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I Am A Machine

I am a machine to cause my stagnation
I am an engine to operate on activation
you are a noise of chords in train station,
or my controls of a same contemplation.

I am a machine to adjust to adoptation,
I am programmed to refuse an alteration,
you are a script, a demand of abnegation,
you are a letter in my dream of alienation.

I am a machine, you invoke my obligation,
I am a robot to quantitate approximation,
you are a machine to amount navigation,
You are an antenna to examine caligation.

I am programmed to refuse an alteration,
I am an engine to operate on activation
you are a noise of chords in train station,
you are a letter in my dream of alienation.

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Inclination

Man was created,
And so nature came forth from it's creation.
They progressed so slanted,
But that's what to expect from one of inclination.

One would be so naive as in life they begin,
Innocence in it's prime.
Seldom do they see sin,
Or how it will haunt them in time.

Then they grew,
Maturity broadened.
Then love began to brew,
And everyday, "he" or "she" happened.

They fell over and over,
Then sought for redemption and a helping hand.
They nonetheless still seek for a lover,
And seek to leave this land.

[...] Read more

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Ambrose Bierce

A Patter Song

There was a cranky Governor
His name it wasn't Waterman.
For office he was hotter than
The love of any lover, nor
Was Boruck's threat of aiding him
Effective in dissuading him
This pig-headed, big-headed, singularly self-conceited Governor Nonwaterman.

To citrus fairs, _et caetera_,
He went about philandering,
To pride of parish pandering.
He knew not any better-ah,
His early education had
Not taught the abnegation fad
The wool-witted, bull-witted, fabulously feeble-minded king of gabble-gandering!

He conjured up, _ad libitum_,
With postures energetical,
One day (this is prophetical)
His graces, to exhibit 'em.

[...] Read more

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The Khaki Boys Who Were Not At The Front

Oh! it is not just the men who face the guns,
Not the fighters at the Front alone, to-day
Who will bring the longed-for close to the bloody fray, for those
Could not carry on that fray without the ones
Who are working at war's problems far away.


You are all our splendid heroes in the strife,
And we class you with the warriors maimed and scarred,
Though you never have been near enough the battle din to hear,
While you laboured in the dull routine of life
In your khaki suits with sleeves that are not barred.


You have offered up yourselves to save the world;
You have felt the abnegation of the Christ:
And whatever work you do is a noble work and true;
Though it be not done with banners all unfurled,
You will find it has, in sight of God, sufficed.

[...] Read more

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Sadness = Happines :)) :

Frowns are just grimace sitting upside down
Angst an erotic name for boredom in motion
The abyss is the cabin were the soul will conspire
To rave in a daze, of dance of misfit rage.

You scream in your mind for someone to hear
but all you get back is static feedback
Your internally bursting, on a private frequency
That Nobody pays to witness your seething.

Slave to fear and master of deceit
Enchanted to the chains of your own misanthropy
Hopeless romantic for cynical deprivations
You know only pleasure of self-abnegation
Van goh is your idle but you lack his impression
Nietzsche is your god, and your just his ghost
Sartre you devour as an idol to rule your apathy
You like to have the lead to the role of self-defeat
But you’re an amateur nihilist
without motive to nothingness.

[...] Read more

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Let Us Fly!

Let us fly! It is long past eleven;
The watch-dogs are silent; the moon
Hath all but abandoned the heaven,
And midnight is sinking in swoon.
Not a chirp to be heard in the thicket;
The kine are asleep in the byre;
All is hushed; here I stand at the wicket,
Alone, with my pulses on fire.

There! silently close you the lattice!
Now daintily drop we the latch!
What is that? O my pretty one! that is
A sparrow that moved in the thatch.
Quick! a hasty foot over the orchard!
The horses are saddled beyond.
To-night 'tis our fate to be tortured,
To-morrow night nothing but fond!

Yet I pause. O my Mabel! my beauty!
If they who sleep tranquil within

[...] Read more

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