“Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours For one lone soul another lonely soul, Each choosing each through all the weary hours, And meeting strangely at one sudden goal, Then blend they, like green leaves with golden flowers, Into one beautiful and perfect whole; And life's long night is ended, and the way Lies open onward to eternal day.” WorldWayLoveLongSoulWholeBeautifulLyingNightGoalHoursPerfectThis WorldFlowerEternalLonelyGreenMeetingsGoldenWearyLoneLong NightsGreen Leaves Author:Edwin Arnold
“I pray the gods will give me some relief and end this weary job. One long full year I've been lying here, on this rooftop, the palace of the sons of Atreus, resting on my arms, just like a dog. I've come to know the night sky, every star, the powers we see glittering in the sky, bringing winter and summer to us all, as the constellations rise and sink.” KnowsGivingLongEndsJobsLyingNightStarsSkyDogSonArmsPrayingSummerGive MeWinterGods WillWearyPalacesI PrayConstellationsNight SkyRooftopsLying Here Author:Aeschylus
“For ever and anon the soul becomes weary of the conventions that are not of it, and with a single stroke shatters the civilized lies with which it is unable to cope, and the strong arm reaches out and takes by force what it cannot win by cunning.” SoulLyingWinningStrongForceArmsCivilizationCivilizedConventionsReach OutWearyStrokesCunningStrong ArmsAnon Book:The Troll Garden: Short Stories Source: The Troll Garden: Short Stories
“Sick I am of idle words, past all reconciling, Words that weary and perplex and pander and conceal, Wake the sounds that cannot lie, for all their sweet beguiling; The language one need fathom not, but only hear and feel.” NeedsFeelsPastLyingLanguageSoundSweetSickIdleWearyFathom Author:George du Maurier
“Say, ye oppress'd by some fantastic woes, Some jarring nerve that baffles your repose; Who press the downy couch, while slaves advance With timid eye, to read the distant glance; Who with sad prayers the weary doctor tease, To name the nameless ever-new disease; Who with mock patience dire complaints endure, Which real pain and that alone can cure; How would ye bear in real pain to lie, Despised, neglected, left alone to die? How would ye bear to draw your latest breath, Where all that's wretched paves the way for death?” WayRealEyePainLyingDiesNamesLeftPrayerBearsDiseaseDrawsDoctorsBreathsPressesSlaveEndureCuresFantasticNervesWearyComplaintsGlancesWoeWretchedNeglectedCouchesReposeDespisedMockTeaseLeft AloneNamelessReal Pain Book:The Poetical Works of Crabbe, Heber, and Pollok: Complete in One Volume Source: The Poetical Works of Crabbe, Heber, and Pollok: Complete in One Volume