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Come what come may, time and the hour run through the roughest day.
---William Shakespeare, Macbeth
You are the music while the music lasts.
T.S. Eliot
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Aye me, how many perils do enfold
The righteous man, to make him daily fall?
Were not, that heavenly grace doth him uphold,
And steadfast truth acquite him out of all.
---Edmund Spenser
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If you haven’t the strength to impose your own terms upon life, then you must accept the terms it offers you.
T.S. Eliot
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Why should you love him whom the world hates so?
Because he love me more than all the world.
Christopher Marlowe
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We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
- The Hollow Men
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one louing howre
For many yeares of sorrow can dispence:
A dram of sweet is worth a pound of sowre
---Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene
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Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
T.S. Eliot
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You cannot, sir, take from me any thing that I will more willingly part withal: except my life, except my life, except my life.
---William Shakespeare, Hamlet
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Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take, towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.
T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets
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The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide,
But forth vnto the darksome hole he went,
And looked in:his glistring armor made
A litle glooming light, much like a shade,
Edmund Spencer, The Faerie Queene
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Whatever you think, be sure it is what you think; whatever you want, be sure that is what you want; whatever you feel, be sure that is what you feel.
T.S. Eliot
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Fools that will laugh on earth, most weep in hell.
Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus
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What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.
T.S. Eliot
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O but," quoth she, "great griefe will not be tould,
And can more easily be thought, then said."
"Right so"; quoth he, "but he, that never would,
Could never: will to might gives greatest aid."
"But grief," quoth she, "does great grow displaid,
If then it find not helpe, and breedes despaire."
"Despaire breedes not," quoth he, "where faith is staid."
"No faith so fast," quoth she, "but flesh does paire."
"Flesh may empaire," quoth he, "but reason can repaire.
Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene
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