Raise a song for her, O Muse! The violet-crownèd maiden, And praise her soft throat's changing hues, Her low voice, laughter-laden. Sing yet again her thousand charms, Her eyes entrancing splendour, Her swarthy cheeks and supple arms And bosom dark and tender. Yea, sing forevermore of her, My mistress soft-beguiling, Fairest of all who are, or were, My Sappho, sweetly-smiling.
Alcaeus of MytileneRelated topics
arms bosom changing dark low maiden mistress muse praise raise sappho sing soft song swarthy tender thousand voice yea yet splendour eyesRelated quotes
If all the skies were sunshine Our faces would be fain To feel once more upon them The cooling splash of rain. If all the world were music, Our hearts would often long For one sweet strain of silence, To break the endless song If life were always merry, Our souls would seek relief, And rest from weary laughter In the quiet arms of grief.
Henry van Dyke
Voice, come out of the silence.
Say something.
Appear in the form of a spider
Or a moth beating the curtain.
Tell me:
Which is the way I take;
Out of what door` do I go,
Where and to whom?
Dark hollows said, lee to the wind,
The moon said, back of an eel,
The salt said, look by the sea,
Your tears are not enough praise,
You will find no comfort here,
In the kingdom of bang and blab.
Theodore Roethke
Must have counted twenty thousand cold county lines; nothing here will get my weary soul to ignite. Hold me, hold me. Put me back together, baby. Show me that you love me; feels so good together. Every single fire, started with a spark. We could feel it burn, when we're dancing in the dark. Take me in your arms, before I fall apart. Baby, we're a fire that started with a spark.
Michelle Branch
When Siddhartha listened attentively to this river, to the song of a thousand voices; when he did not listen to the sorrow or laughter, when he did not bind his soul to any one particular voice and absorb it in his Self, but heard them all, the whole, the unity; then the great song of a thousand voices consisted of one word: Om - perfection.
Hermann Hesse
The man who receives five thousand dollars a year wants six thousand dollars a year, and the man who owns eight or nine hundred thousand dollars will want a hundred thousand dollars more to make it a million, while the man who has his millions will want everything he can lay his hands on and then raise his voice against the poor devil who wants ten cents more a day.
Samuel Gompers
