Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

They can't hurt you unless you let them.

They can't hurt you unless you let them.

When there is pain, there are no words. All pain is the same.

When there is pain, there are no words. All pain is the same.

There's a pang in all rejoicing,
And a joy in the heart of pain;
And the wind read more

There's a pang in all rejoicing,
And a joy in the heart of pain;
And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens,
Are singing the selfsame strain.

Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever.

Pain is temporary. Quitting lasts forever.

Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.

Pain dies quickly, and lets her weary prisoners go; the fiercest agonies have shortest reign.

Why, all delights are vain, but that most vain
Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain:
As, read more

Why, all delights are vain, but that most vain
Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain:
As, painfully to pore upon a book,
To seek the light of truth, which truth the while
Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look.

Much benevolence of the passive order may be traced to a disinclination to inflict pain upon oneself.

Much benevolence of the passive order may be traced to a disinclination to inflict pain upon oneself.

When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair.

When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair.