Quotes About Mourned

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!

It is tragic and sad and chaotic and lovely. All life is the same, as citizens of the human State: the animating limits are within, to be killed and mourned, over and over again.

Beloved, till life can charm no more; And mourned, till Pity's self be dead.

The gulls swept over Dover. They sailed out like flakes of the fog, and tacked back towards the hidden town, while the siren mourned with them: other ships replied, a whole wake lifted up their voices—for whose death?

Marx loved college theater. It wasn't so much being on stage that he loved, but the productions themselves. He loved the intimacy of being in a tight group of people who had come together, miraculously, for a brief period in time, for the purpose of making art. He mourned every time a production was over, and he rejoiced when he was cast in a new one.

Had the same events occurred a few hundred miles to the east, it is unlikely that they would have had a comparable impact; the details would have been reported on fleetingly and peppered with fewer updates, and the tragedy, like others then and later, would have almost certainly been mourned locally without much resonance beyond the town itself.

wailed when she'd

The way those thirsty for power, glory, or the satisfaction of brow-beating others into their particular beliefs used God as a weapon of intimidation and fear perplexed her. Not that they'd do it, but that anyone would listen. If God actually took the time to go mourned smiting anyone, she'd like to see him start with the self-righteous pricks that inflated their own egos in his name.

Gaveston: I can no longer keepe me from my lord. Edward: What Gaveston, welcome: kis not my hand, Embrace me Gaveston as I do thee: Why shouldst thou kneele, knowest thou not who I am? Thy friend, thy selfe, another Gaveston. Not Hilas was more mourned of Hercules, Then thou hast beene of me since thy exile.

Queen Jane Seymour's epitaph, inscribed in Latin, translated roughly to: Here lies Jane, a phoenix Who died in giving another phoenix birth, Let her be mourned, for birds like these Are rare indeed.

It is tragic and sad and chaotic and lovely. All life is the same, as citizens of the human State: the animating limits are within, to be killed and mourned, over and over again.

You seek to vanquish and transcend the limited self whose limits make the game possible in the first place. It is tragic and sad and chaotic and lovely. All life is the same, as citizens of the human State: the animating limits are within, to be killed and mourned, over and over again.

He was a hunter who mourned for his prey, but was very good at tracking it down.

Lament not Fortune?s mutability, And seize her fickle favours ere they flee; If others never mourned departed bliss, How should a turn of Fortune come to thee?