Quotes
Quotes about Wit
Mad, adj.: Affected with a high degree of intellectual independence.
Beware the deadly fumes of that insane elation Which rises from the cup of mad impiety, And go, get drunk with that divine intoxication Which is more sober far than all sobriety.
Man, being reasonable, must get drunk; The best of life is but intoxication: Glory, the grape, love, gold, in these are sunk The hopes of all men and of every nation; Without their sap, how branchless were the trunk Of life's strange tree, so fruitful on occasion: But to return,--Get very drunk; and when You wake with headache, you shall see what then.
He calls drunkenness an expression identical with ruin.
He that is drunken . . . Is outlawed by himself; all kind of ill Did with his liquor slide into his veins.
. . . And when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should with joy, pleasance, revel, and applause transform ourselves into beasts!
I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking; So full of valor that they smote the air For breathing in their faces, beat the ground, For kissing of their feet; yet always bending Towards their project.
Hell is paved with good intentions, not with bad ones. All men mean well.
Hell is paved with good intentions, roofed in with lost opportunities.
People change, not necessarily in negative ways. Sometimes goals and intentions in life aren't aligned. It's just choices we make in life. Otherwise, why aren't we with the person we were with in seventh grade?
It is difficult to say who do you the most harm: enemies with the worst intentions or friends with the best.
If one could be friendly with women, what a pleasureâthe relationship so secret and private compared with relations with men. Why not write about it truthfully?
I would venture to warn against too great intimacy with artists as it is very seductive and a little dangerous.
But that intimacy of mutual embarrassment, in which each feels that the other is feeling something, having once existed, its effect is not to be done away with.
All great men are gifted with intuition. They know without reasoning or analysis, what they need to know.
We issued gorged with knowledge, and I spoke: "Why, Sirs, they do all this as well as we." "They hunt old trails" said Cyril, "very well; But when did woman ever yet invent?"
There's a dear little plant that grows in our isle, 'Twas St. Patrick himself sure that set it; And the sun on his labor with pleasure did smile, And with dew from his eye often wet it. It thrives through the bog, through the brake, and the mireland; And he called it the dear little shamrock of Ireland-- The sweet little shamrock, the dear little shamrock, The sweet little, green little, shamrock of Ireland!
Old Dublin City there is no doubtin' Bates every city upon the say. 'Tis there you'd hear O'Connell spoutin' And Lady Morgan making tay. For 'tis the capital of the finest nation, With charmin' pisintry upon a fruitful sod, Fightin' like devils for conciliation, And hatin' each other for the Love of God.
Th' an'am an Dhia, but there it is-- The dawn on the hills of Ireland. God's angels lifting the night's black veil From the fair sweet face of my sireland! O Ireland, isn't it grand, you look Like a bride in her rich adornin', And with all the pent up love of my heart I bid you the top of the morning.
O, love is the soul of a true Irishman; He loves all that's lovely, loves all that he can, With his sprig of shillelagh and shamrock so green.
Remember, sir, my liege, The kings your ancestors, together with The natural bravery of your isle, which stands As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in With rocks unscalable and roaring waters, With sands that will not bear your enemies' boats But suck them up to th' topmast.
The one happiness is to shut one's door upon a little room, with a table before one, and to create; to create life in that isolation from life.
On my velvet couch reclining, Ivy leaves my brow entwining, While my soul expands with glee, What are kings and crowns to me?
The Jackdaw sat in the Cardinal's chair! Bishop and Abbot and Prior were there, Many a monk and many a friar, Many a knight and many a squire, With a great many more of lesser degree,-- In sooth a goodly company; And they served the Lord Primate on bended knee. Never, I ween, Was a prouder seen, Read of in books or dreamt of in dreams, Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of Rheims.
