I dream of cloisters of marble where in divine silence the heroes, standing, rest; at night, in light of the soul, I speak with them: at night! They are in a row: I walk among the rows: the stone hands I kiss them; the stone eyes open; the stone lips move; the stone beards tremble; they seize the sword of stone; they cry: place the sword in the sheath! Mute, I kiss their hand.
José MartíRelated topics
cry divine dream hero kiss light move open rest row soul speak standing stone sword walk hands lips eyesRelated quotes
May we feel after Thee; still calling out in the darkness, as children waking in the night call "Father," so may we call out for God; and, at times, even if we do not hear Thy voice, may there be the form of a hand resting upon us, and that shall be enough; for we shall take hold of it, though it be in the dark, and it shall guide us to the growing light; for the day shall come, and the release and triumph.
Henry Ward Beecher
People who get implants, it's so depressing, you know... People - I don't know. The route of that, you know, maybe they want more love or attention, or what it is, but they always go for the most obvious place, you know? Here... Well if you really want more attention, why not get them in your eyes? And then move your eyes down to where your nipples used to be, put your breasts up on your head, everybody will pay attention!
Dylan Moran
They looking back, all th' Eastern side beheld
Of Paradise, so late thir happie seat,
Wav'd over by that flaming Brand, the Gate
With dreadful Faces throng'd and fierie Armes:
Som natural tears they drop'd, but wip'd them soon;
The World was all before them, where to choose
Thir place of rest, and Providence thir guide:
They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,
Through EDEN took thir solitarie way.
John Milton
Even geniuses get the blues. The more I write the less substance I see in my work, ... It is tolerably awful. And I face it, I face it but the fright is growing on me. My fortitude is shaken by the view of the monster. It does not move its eyes are baleful it is as still as death itself -- and it will devour me. Its stare has eaten into my soul already deep, deep.
Joseph Conrad
The warriors that fought for their country, and bled,
Have sunk to their rest; the damp earth is their bed;
No stone tells the place where their ashes repose,
Nor points out the spot from the graves of their foes.
They died in their glory, surrounded by fame,
And Victory's loud trump their death did proclaim;
They are dead; but they live in each Patriot's breast,
And their names are engraven on honor's bright crest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
