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Quotes about mortified

Bishop Blougram's Apology

No more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk.
A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith!
We ought to have our Abbey back, you see.
It's different, preaching in basilicas,
And doing duty in some masterpiece
Like this of brother Pugin's, bless his heart!
I doubt if they're half baked, those chalk rosettes,
Ciphers and stucco-twiddlings everywhere;
It's just like breathing in a lime-kiln: eh?
These hot long ceremonies of our church
Cost us a little—oh, they pay the price,
You take me—amply pay it! Now, we'll talk.

So, you despise me, Mr. Gigadibs.
No deprecation—nay, I beg you, sir!
Beside 't is our engagement: don't you know,
I promised, if you'd watch a dinner out,
We'd see truth dawn together?—truth that peeps
Over the glasses' edge when dinner's done,
And body gets its sop and holds its noise

[...] Read more

poem by from Men and Women (1855)Report problemRelated quotes
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Lack of erection
I read a verse about it
At an open mike
To deafening silence
And mortified interval

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In those days I was mortified, because I was a serious actor in my own mind, and then all of a sudden I'm this hunk.

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Thomas Jefferson

I am mortified to be told that, in the United States of America, the sale of a book can become a subject of inquiry, and of criminal inquiry too.

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Some hypocrites and seeming mortified men, that held down their heads, were like the little images that they place in the very bowing of the vaults of churches, that look as if they held up the church, but are but puppets.

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All You Can Do Is Ask

The phone rings,
a voice answers, .
Your going to die today
He says.
Mortified; terrozied
All you can do is ask,
Why, why do I die today?
Hear his smile,
Because you're bound by circumstance,
Your stolen like my last line,
Why, why must be so?
Why? He smirks.
Because death knows not metaphor,
Anguish nor humour.

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Thomas Hardy

Thomas Hardy wrote best about women,
Their passion, sentiments and attitude.
He equally sucked out of women,
Their energy and warmth in his own life.
Emma, his first wife, turned an object of pity.
Florence, the second, a young fan of his,
Turned an object of humiliation.
He understands women he invented.
And undermined women he dealt with.
He has glorified all his heroines
And mortified both women he married.
Content with the treatment to his heroines,
He felt no need to be so to his wives.
A lamp does not illuminate its base.
13.0.2008

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Window ! !

Window of life opens
and a smile on Ocean’s face
waves bang all around
dawn pleasant and chirpy
footprints of earth
on day’s petals
a funicular climbs
upwards to mountains peak
in equal variation climbs
up and down
a furnace burns from
hearts of provoked
battlefields
corpses mortified,
souls chased out on
inhuman cerebral
concocts
onlookers watch merely
slams and smashes
from either hostiles

[...] Read more

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If We Stopped Getting Ill

The sun was bright this morning
And as i lay in my bed
I smiled out at the world outside
And then within my head
A strange thought started forming
As if not of my will
What if plagues and sickness vanished
And we stopped getting ill?
A happy thought i told myself
But then as these things go
The consequences came to me
Though still thinking rather slow
What would happen to the chemists,
Doctors, nurses and the rest
If we were well all of the time
And always felt our best?
Wall Street would be mortified
Pharma companies would collapse
Unless they invented illnesses
Or, even worse, perhaps

[...] Read more

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Melodies Without Sound (Revised)

The first time I was asked for my ideal I said To
become Faust and learn everything there is; by
dramatic phrasing I meant being a student for-
ever- she derisively replied, Get real child, what
a pretentious ideal - I was deeply mortified

Studied philosophy, science, quantum physics and
relativism, wondered about astronomy; astrology
explained the characters we deal with in life; read
everything that evoked my curiosity, unsure where
the quest would lead - the joy of doing it an end in
itself - and while stimulating discussion is limited

I write to clarify emotional problems, practise the
art of expression and learn to use sonorous words
to create melodies without sound, learning from
the poet I most admire because - HIS poetry
sings at all times

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