The day are ever divine as to the first Aryans. They are of the
least pretension, and of the greatest capacity of anything that
exists. They come and go like muffled and veiled figures sent
from a distant friendly party; but they say nothing, and if we do
not use the gifts they bring, they carry them as silently away.
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The long days are no happier than the short ones.
The long days are no happier than the short ones.
I said, Days should speak, and multitude of years should teach
wisdom.
I said, Days should speak, and multitude of years should teach
wisdom.
Don't look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you'll know you're dead.
Don't look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you'll know you're dead.
Every day may not be good... but there's something good in every day.
Every day may not be good... but there's something good in every day.
For, he that expects nothing shall not be disappointed, but he that expects much - if he lives and uses read more
For, he that expects nothing shall not be disappointed, but he that expects much - if he lives and uses that in hand day by day - shall be full to running over.
Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth
knowledge.
Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth
knowledge.
Is not every meanest day the confluence of two eternities?
Is not every meanest day the confluence of two eternities?
Think that day lost whose (low) descending sun
Views from thy hand no noble action done.
[Lat., read more
Think that day lost whose (low) descending sun
Views from thy hand no noble action done.
[Lat., Virtus sui gloria.]
Daughter of Time, the hypocrite Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an read more
Daughter of Time, the hypocrite Days,
Muffled and dumb like barefoot dervishes,
And marching single in an endless file,
Bring diadems and fagots in their hands;
To each they offer gifts after his will,
Bread, kingdom, stars, and sky that holds them all;
I, in my pleached garden watched the pomp
Forgot my morning wishes, hastily
Took a few herbs and apples, and the Day
Turned and departed silent. I too late
Under her solemn fillet saw the scorn.
