There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor ma...n named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Literary confessors are contemptible, like beggars who exhibit their sores for money, but not so contemptible as the public that b...uys their books.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of Love are gone;... The worm--the canker, and the grief Are mine alone!LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
What a hell of an economic system! Some are replete with everything while others, whose stomachs are no less demanding, whose hung...er is just as recurrent, have nothing to bite on. The worst of it is the constrained posture need puts you in. The needy man does not walk like the rest; he skips, slithers, twists, crawls.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
In the actual world--the painful kingdom of time and place--dwell care, and canker, and fear. With thought, with the ideal, is imm...ortal hilarity, the rose of joy.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Estate agents. You can't live with them, you can't live with them. The first sign of these nasty purulent sores appeared round abo...ut 1894. With their jangling keys, nasty suits, revolting beards, moustaches and tinted spectacles, estate agents roam the land causing perturbation and despair. If you try and kill them, you're put in prison: if you try and talk to them, you vomit. There's only one thing worse than an estate agent but at least that can be safely lanced, drained and surgically dressed. Estate agents. Love them or loathe them, you'd be mad not to loathe them.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Culture's essential service to a religion is to destroy intellectual idolatry, the recurrent tendency in religion to replace the o...bject of its worship with its present understanding and forms of approach to that object.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Much poetry seems to be aware of its situation in time and of its relation to the metronome, the clock, and the calendar. ... The ...season or month is there to be felt; the day is there to be seized. Poems beginning "When" are much more numerous than those beginning "Where" of "If." As the meter is running, the recurrent message tapped out by the passing of measured time is mortality.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »