Though they be Ill rulers of this household, be not thou Too swift to strike ere time be ripe to strike, Nor then by darkling stroke, against them: I Have erred, who thought by wrong to vanquish wrong, To smite by violence violence, and by night Put out the power of darkness: time shall bring A better way than mine, if God's will be - As how should God's will be not?
Algernon Charles SwinburneRelated topics
darkling darkness ere ill mine night nor power ripe should strike stroke swift thought thou way wrongRelated quotes
For Christians above all men are forbidden to correct the stumblings of sinners by force...it is necessary to make a man better not by force but by persuasion. We neither have authority granted us by law to restrain sinners, nor, if it were, should we know how to use it, since God gives the crown to those who are kept from evil, not by force, but by choice.
John Chrysostom
Train yourself to cut off an intrusive thought immediately. And if you are forgetful and fail to chase them away at once bring God your repentance. Be at pains over this, so that you acquire the habit. The soul is a creature of habit: according to the habit you have acquired, so will you act all the rest of your life.
Silouan the Athonite
They do not ill, being lords of ours, to slay
Me; nay, they could not spare: but thee to slay,
To spill thy strong young life for truth to me,
In all men's eyes would mark them monstrous: thou
Must live, and serve my slayers, and serving them
Sustain my memory by the proof - if God
Shall give thee grace to prove it - that thy name,
Thy father's name and mine, in true men's ears
Rings truth, and means not treason.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Nelson wonders why, no matter how cheerful and blameless the day's activities have been, when you wake in the middle of the night there is guilt in the air, a gnawing feeling of everything being slightly off, wrong – you in the wrong, and the world too, as if darkness is a kind of light that shows us the depth we are about to fall into.
John Updike
So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
William Cullen Bryant