You May Also Like / View all maxioms
The world goes whispering to its own,
"This anguish pierces to the bone;"
And tender friends go read more
The world goes whispering to its own,
"This anguish pierces to the bone;"
And tender friends go sighing round,
"What love can ever cure this wound?"
My days go on, my days go on.
O that this too too sullied flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew,
Or read more
O that this too too sullied flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew,
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon 'gainst self-slaughter.
More than any other time in history, mankind faces a cross-roads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The read more
More than any other time in history, mankind faces a cross-roads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly.
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation ... A stereotyped but read more
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation ... A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind.
All my life I believed I knew something. But then one strange day came when I realized that I knew read more
All my life I believed I knew something. But then one strange day came when I realized that I knew nothing, yes, I knew nothing. And so words became void of meaning. I have arrived too late at ultimate uncertainty.
It is necessary to work, if not from inclination, at least from despair. Everything considered, work is less boring than read more
It is necessary to work, if not from inclination, at least from despair. Everything considered, work is less boring than amusing oneself.
. . . then black despair
The shadow of a starless night, was thrown
Over the world read more
. . . then black despair
The shadow of a starless night, was thrown
Over the world in which I moved alone.
When we are flat on our backs there is no way to look but up.
When we are flat on our backs there is no way to look but up.
Why was I born with such contemporaries?
Why was I born with such contemporaries?
