Quotes
Quotes about Sin
Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from Sinai.
After a day of cloud and wind and rain Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again, And touching all the darksome woods with light, Smiles on the fields until they laugh and sing, Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring, Drops down into the night.
Now in his Palace of the West, Sinking to slumber, the bright Day, Like a tired monarch fann'd to rest, 'Mid the cool airs of Evening lay; While round his couch's golden rim The gaudy clouds, like courtiers, crept-- Struggling each other's light to dim, And catch his last smile e'er he slept.
How fine has the day been! how bright was the sun, How lovely and joyful the course that he run! Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun, And there followed some droppings of rain: But now the fair traveller's come to the west, His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best; He paints the skies gay as he sinks to his rest, And foretells a bright rising again.
The losing side is full of suspicion. [Lat., Ad tristem partem strenua est suspicio.]
Place me on Sunium's marbled steep, Where nothing save the waves and I May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die.
The swan is not without cause dedicated to Apollo, because foreseeing his happiness in death, he dies with singing and pleasure. [Lat., Cignoni non sine causa Apoloni dicata sint, quod ab eo divinationem habere videantur, qua providentes quid in morte boni sit, cum cantu et voluptate moriantur.]
Death darkens his eyes, and unplumes his wings, Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings: Live so, my Love, that when death shall come, Swan-like and sweet it may waft thee home.
The swan in the pool is singing, And up and down doth he steer, And, singing gently ever, Dips under the water clear.
And over the pond are sailing Two swans all white as snow; Sweet voices mysteriously wailing Pierce through me as onward they go. They sail along, and a ringing Sweet melody rises on high; And when the swans begin singing, They presently must die.
The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself the singer of its own dirge.
Thus does the white swan, as he lies on the wet grass, when the Fates summon him, sing at the fords of Maeander.
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, And from the organ-pipe of fraity sings His soul and body to their lasting rest.
You think that upon the score of fore-knowledge and divining I am infinitely inferior to the swans. When they perceive approaching death they sing more merrily than before, because of the joy they have in going to the God they serve.
A demon holds a book, in which are written the sins of a particular man; an Angel drops on it from a phial, a tear which the sinner had shed in doing a good action, and his sins are washed out.
"He shall not die, by God," cried by uncle Toby. The Accusing Spirit which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in: and the Recording Angel as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word and blotted it out forever.
In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
To have the reputation of possessing the most perfect social tact, talk to every woman as if you loved her, and to every man as if he bored you.
One commending a Tayler for his dexteritie in his profession, another standing by ratified his opinion, saying tailors had their business at their fingers' ends. - William Hazlitt,
The crowning blessing of lifeâto be born with a bias to some pursuit.
His talk was like a stream which runs With rapid change from rock to roses; It slipped from politics to puns; It passed from Mahomet to Moses; Beginning with the laws that keep The planets in the radiant courses, And ending with some precept deep For dressing eels or shoeing horses.
Taxes are the sinews of the state.
The art of taxation consists in so plucking the goose as to obtain the largest amount of feathers with the least possible amount of hissing.
Now stir the fire, and close the shudders fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
