For books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay, they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.
Why are the people starving?-
Because their grain is being eaten up by the taxes
That's why they're starving
Why are people rebellious?-
Because those above them meddle in their lives
That's why they're rebellious
Why do people regard death so lightly?-
Because they are so involved with their own living
That's why they regard death so lightly
In the end,
The treasure of life is missed by those who hold on
and gained by those who let go
He loves not well whose love is bold!
I would not have thee come too nigh.
The sun's gold would not seem pure gold
Unless the sun were in the sky:
To take him thence and chain him near
Would make his beauty disappear.
William Winter, Love's Queen.
The unconquerable pang of despised love.
I receive your love and I give you mine. Not the love of a man for a woman, not the love of a father for a child, not the love of God for his creatures, but a love with no name and no explanation, like a river that cannot explain why it follows a particular course, but simply flows onwards. A love that asks for nothing and gives nothing in return; it is simply there. I will never be yours and you will never be mine; nevertheless, I can honestly say: I love you