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Page 418 - Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil, that men do, lives after them ; The good is oft interred with their bones ; So let it be with Caesar.
Page 185 - Forever that the world's not paradise. 0 cousin, let us be content, in work, To do the thing we can, and not presume To fret because it's little.
Page 392 - REQUIEM UNDER the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be ; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
Page 14 - Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.
Page 134 - This world, which is the same for all, no one of gods or men has made; but it was ever, is now, and ever shall be an ever-living Fire, with measures of it kindling, and measures going out.
Page 134 - You cannot step twice into the same river; for fresh waters are ever flowing in upon you.
Page 185 - Get leave to work In this world — 'tis the best you get at all; For God, in cursing, gives us better gifts Than men in benediction. God says, "Sweat For foreheads," men say "crowns," and so we are crowned, Ay, gashed by some tormenting circle of steel Which snaps with a secret spring. Get work, get work; Be sure 'tis better than what you work to get.
Page 28 - Launcelot ; for of a more nobler man might I not be slain. Also Sir Launcelot, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, make no tarrying, but come over the sea in all haste, that thou mayst with thy noble knights rescue that noble king that made thee knight, that is my lord Arthur...
Page 19 - For myself, there had been epochs of my life when I too might have asked of this prophet the master word that should solve me the riddle of the universe ; but now, being happy, I felt as if there were no question to be put, and therefore admired Emerson as a poet of deep beauty and austere tenderness, but sought nothing from him as a philosopher.