The moving finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy piety nor wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a line, Nor all thy tears wash out a word of it.
This day, much against my will, I did in Drury Lane see two or three houses marked with a red cross upon the doors, and "Lord have mercy upon us" writ there; which was a sad sight to me, being the first of the kind that, to my remembrance, I ever saw. It put me into an ill conception of myself and my smell, so that I was forced to buy some roll-tobacco to smell to and chaw, which took away the apprehension.Samuel Pepys
The Moving Finger writes; and having writ, Moves on; nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it.omar khayyám
I love the language, that soft bastard Latin, Which melts like kisses from a female mouth, And sounds as if it should be writ on satin, With syllables which breathe of the sweet South, And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in, That not a single accent seems uncouth, Like our harsh northern whistling, grunting guttural, Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and sputter all.lord byron
Tantarrara! the joyous Book of SpringLies open, writ in blossoms.william allingham
I would have walked on the waterBut I wasn't fully insured.And the BMA sent a writ my wayWith the very first leper I cured.Adrian Mitchell
'Tis writ on Paradise's gate, "Woe to the dupe that yields to Fate!"
“I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this chapel were shut, And ‘Thou shalt not’ writ over the door, So I turned to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore, And I saw it was filled with graves, And tomb-stones where flowers should be: And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds, And binding with briars my joys and desires.”orson scott card
The estranged ego projects its own disorder on to society and expects the restructuring and integration of the self writ large, the society, to reflect back on to the source of consciousness. Stirner regards this flight from self as a form of suicide, the dissolution of identity and uniqueness.john carroll
Of horn and morn, and hark and bark, And echo's answering sounds, All poets' wit hath ever writ In dog-rel verse of hounds.thomas hood
Trees continue to vegetate, and so do live on beasts and birds; he alone lives whose mind lives not in consequence of taking on a variety of forms. All holy writ is so much burden to him who has not acquired self-control, the body is so much burden to him who knows only the anatman (no-self.)
All your better deeds Shall be in water writ, but this in marble.
But all his mind is bent to holiness, To number Ave-Maries on his beads; His champions are the prophets and apostles, His weapons holy saw of sacred writ, His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves Are brazen images of canonized saints.william shakespeare
He that of greatest works is finisher Oft does them by the weakest minister: So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, When judges have been babes.william shakespeare
The blackest ink of fate was sure my lot, And when fate writ my name it made a blot.Henry Fielding
"Whose name was writ in water!" What large laughter Among the immortals when that word was brought! Then when his fiery spirit rose flaming after, High toward the topmost heaven of heavens up-caught! "All hail! our younger brother!" Shakespeare said, And Dante nodded his imperial head.richard watson gilder
What Nature has writ with her lusty wit Is worded so wisely and kindly That whoever has dipped in her manuscript Must up and follow her blindly. Now the summer prime is her blithest rhyme In the being and the seeming, And they that have heard the overword Know life's a dream worth dreaming.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
writ in the climate of heaven, in the language spoken by angels.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow