I am glad that I paid so little attention to good advice; had I abided by it I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.
Strange how few, After alls said and done, the things that are Of moment.
My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!
Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
Death devours all lovely things.
Life must go on; I forget just why.
Beauty is whatever gives joy.
It's not true that life is one damn thing after another; it is one damn thing over and over.
I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.
Life is a quest and love a quarrel
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
The soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through.
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
Life isn't one thing after another, it's the same thing over and over.
And her voice is a string of colored beads, Or steps leading into the sea.
You are loved. If so, what else matters?
Now the autumn shudders In the rose's root. Far and wide the ladders Lean among the fruit. Now the autumn clambers Up the trellised frame, And the rose remembers The dust from which it came. Brighter than the blossom On the rose's bough Sits the wizened orange, Bitter berry now; Beauty never slumbers; All is in her name; But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied Who told me time would ease me of my pain! I miss him in the weeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide; The old snows melt from every mountain-side, And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane; But last year's bitter loving must remain Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide! There are a hundred places where I fear To go,--so with his memory they brim! And entering with relief some quiet place Where never fell his foot or shone his face I say, 'There is no memory of him here!' And so stand stricken, so remembering him!
Beautiful as a dandelion-blossom golden in the green grass, this life can be.
For my omniscience paid I toll In infinite remorse of soul. All sin was of my sinning, all Atoning mine, and mine the gall Of all regret. Mine was the weight Of every brooded wrong, the hate That stood behind each envious thrust, Mine every greed, mine every lust. And all the while for every grief, Each suffering, I craved relief With individual desire, – Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire About a thousand people crawl; Perished with each, — then mourned for all!
No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
I love humanity but I hate people.
My heart is warm with the friends I make, And better friends I'll not be knowing, Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take, No matter where it's going.
What should I be but just what I am?
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