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Away with funeral music--set

The pipe to powerful lips-
The cup of life's for him that drinks

And not for him that sips.
STEVENSON. At Boulogne. (1872)


Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
King John. Act III. Sc. 4. L. 108.

(See also HOMER under STORY TELLING) Thy life's a miracle.

King Lear. Act IV. Sc. 6. L. 55.

When we are born, we cry, that we are come
To this great stage of fools.
King Lear. Act IV. Sc. 6. L. 186.

(See also SAXE)
Norstony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron,
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;
But life, being weary of these worldly bars,
Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
Julius Cæsar. Act I. Sc. 3. L. 93.

That but this blow Might be the be-all and the end-all here, But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, We'ld jump the life to come.

Macbeth. Act I. Sc. 7. L. 4. Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time; for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys; renown, and grace is dead; The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.

Macbeth. Act II. Sc. 3. L. 96.

So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune,
That I would set my life on any chance,
To mend, or be rid on't.
Macbeth. Act III. Sc. I. L. 113.

Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.

Macbeth. Act V. Sc. 5. L. 23.

9 I bear a charmed life.

Macbeth. Act V. Sc. 8. L. 12.

Reason thus with life:
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing
That none but fools would keep.

Measure for Measure. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 6.
Life is a shuttle.
Merry Wives of Windsor. Act V. Sc. 1. L.

20. 12 Her father lov'd me; oft invited me; Still question d me the story of my life, From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have pass'd.

Othello. Act I. Sc.3. L. 128. 13

It is silliness to live when to live is torment; and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.

Othello. Act I. Sc. 3. L. 309. 14 Life was driving at brains-at its darling object: an organ by which it can attain not only self-consciousness but self-understanding. BERNARD SHAW-Man and Superman. Act


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So his life has flowed From its mysterious urn a sacred stream, In whose calm depth the beautiful and pure Alone are mirrored; which, though shapes of ill May hover round its surface, glides in light, And takes no shadow from them. THOMAS NOON TALFOURD-Ion. Act I. Sc.

1. L. 138.

Pour exécuter de grandes choses, il faut vivre comme si on ne devait jamais mourir.

To execute great things, one should live as though one would never die. VAUVENARGUES.



For life lives only in success.

BAYARD TAYLOR—Amran's Wooing. St. 5.


Qu'est-ce qu'une grande vie? C'est un rêre de jeunesse réalisé dans l'âge mûr.

What is a great life? It is the dreams of youth realised in old age. ALFRED DE VIGNY, quoted by Louis RATI :

BONNE in an article in the Journal des

Débats, Oct. 4, 1863. 15 Ma vie est un combat.

My life is a struggle.

VOLTAIRE—Le Fanatisme. II. 4. Life is a comedy. WALPOLE—Letter to SIR HORACE MANN,

Dec. 31, 1769. In a letter to same, March 5, 1772. “This world is a comedy, not Life."

(See also WALPOLE under WoRLD)

Our life is scarce the twinkle of a star

In God's eternal day.
BAYARD TAYLOR--Autumnal Vespers.

The white flower of a blameless life.

TENNYSON-Dedication to Idylls of the King.

5 Life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom,

And heated hot with burning fears,

And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd with the shocks of doom,

To shape and use. TENNYSON-In Memoriam. Pt. CXVIII.

St. 5.




I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees.

TENNYSON-Ulysses. L. 6.


Life is like a game of tables, the chances are not in our power, but the playing is. TERENCE—Adelphi; also PLATO—Common

wealth. Quoted by JEREMY TAYLOR-Holy Living. Sec. VI. Of Contentedness.

(See also HUXLEY) No particular motive for living, except the custom and habit of it. THACKERAY. Article on Thackeray and his Novels in Blackwood's Mag. Jan. 1854.

(See also DICKENS)

Life is a game of whist. From unseen sources The cards are shuffled, and the hands are

dealt. Blind are our efforts to control the forces

That, though unseen, are no less strongly felt. I do not like the way the cards are shuffled,

But still I like the game and want to play; And through the long, long night will i, un

ruflled, Play what I get, until the break of day. EUGENE F. WARE-Whist.

(See also HUXLEY) Since the bounty of Providence is new every day, As we journey through life let us live by the way.

WALTER WATSON—Drinking Song.





My life is like a stroll upon the beach. THOREAUMA Week on the Concord and Merri

mack Rivers.

Yet I know that I dwell in the midst of the roar

of the Cosmic Wheel In the hot collision of Forces, and the clangor

of boundless Strife, Mid the sound of the speed of worlds, the rushing

worlds, and the peal Of the thunder of Life. WILLIAM WATSON—Dawn on the Headland.



The tree of deepest root is found
Least willing still to quit the ground;
'Twas therefore said by ancient sages,

That love of life increased with years
So much, that in our latter stages,
When pain grows sharp, and sickness rages,

The greatest love of life appears.
HESTER L. THRALEThree Warnings.

We live not in our moments or our years:
The present we fling from us like the rind
Of some sweet future, which we after find
Bitter to taste.


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Long and long has the grass been growing,
Long and long has the rain been falling,
Long has the globe been rolling round.

WALT WHITMAN-Exposition. I.
I swear the earth shall surely be complete to

him or her who shall be complete, The earth remains jagged and broken only to

him or her who remains jagged and broken. WALT WHITMAN—Song of the Rolling Earth. 3.

Our lives are albums written through
With good or ill, with false or true;
And as the blessed angels turn

The pages of our years,
God grant they read the good with smiles,

And blot the ill with tears!

WHITTIER—Written in a Lady's Album. The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer,

The headstones thicken along the way;
And life grows sadder, but love grows stronger

For those who walk with us day by day.
ELLA WHEELER Wilcox-Interlude.

Our lives are songs; God writes the words

And we set them to music at pleasure;
And the song grows glad, or sweet or sad,

As we choose to fashion the measure.
ELLA WHEELER Wilcox-Our Lives. St. 102.
Claimed for REV. THOMAS GIBBONS. Appears

in his 18th Century Book. See Notes and
Queries, April 1, 1905. P. 249.

Now that the sun is gleaming bright,

Implore we, bending low,
That He, the Uncreated Light,

May guide us as we go.
Attributed to ADAM DE SAINT VICTOR. Old

Latin Hymn said to have been sung at the

death-bed of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. 16 Corruption springs from light: 'tis one same

Creates, preserves, destroys; matter whereon
It works, on e'er self-transmutative form,
Common to now the living, now the dead.

BAILEY-Festus. Sc. Water and Wood.

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Ah! somehow life is bigger after all
Than any painted angel could we see
The God that is within us!

OSCAR WILDE-Humanitad. St. 60.

The Book of Life begins with a man and a woman in a garden.

It ends with Revelations.
OSCAR WILDE-Woman of No Importance.

Act I.

For I light my candle from their torches. BURTON-Anatomy of Melancholy. Pt. III.

Sect. II. Memb. 5. Subsec. 1.

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We live by Admiration, Hope, and Love;
And, even as these are well and wisely fixed,
In dignity of being

we ascend.
WORDSWORTH-Etcursion. Bk. IV.
Plain living and high thinking are no more.
WORDSWORTH-Sonnet dedicated to National

Independence and Liberty. No. XIII.
Written in London, Sept. 1802.

(See also HAWEIS) 10 For what are men who grasp at praise sublime, But bubbles on the rapid stream of time, That rise, and fall, that swell, and are no more, Born, and forgot, ten thousand in an hour? YOUNG-Love of Fame. Satire II. L. 285.

(See also OMAR)
While man is growing, life is in decrease.
And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb:
Our birth is nothing but our death begun.

YOUNG-Night Thoughts. Night V. L. 718.

12 That life is long, which answers life's great end.

Porno-Night Thoughts. Night V. L. 773.

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The light that never was on sea or land,
The consecration, and the poet's dream.
WORDSWORTHElegiac Stanzas. Suggested by

a picture of Peele Castle in a storm. But ne'er to a seductive lay let faith be given; Nor deem that "light that leads astray” is light

from Heaven. WORDSWORTHTo the Sons of Burns.

(See also BURNS)



Syringa Vulgaris 7

The lilac spread Odorous essence.


And lilies white, prepared to touch
The whitest thought, nor soil it much,
Of dreamer turned to lover.
E. B. BROWNING—A Flower in a Letter.

Very whitely still
The lilies of our lives inay reassure
Their blossoms from their roots, accessible
Alone to heavenly dews that drop not fewer;
Growing straight out of man's reach, on the hill.
God only, who made us rich, can make us poor.
E. B. BROWNING—Sonnets from the Portuguese.

XXIV. 18 I wish I were the lily's leaf

To fade upon that bosom warm,
Content to wither, pale and brief,

The trophy of thy paler form.


Go down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in

lilac-time; Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from

London). And you shall wander hand in hand with love in

summer's wonderland; Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn't far from

ALFRED NOYESThe Barrel Organ.



And the stately lilies stand

Fair in the silvery light, Like saintly vestals, pale in prayer; Their pure breath sanctifies the air, As its fragrance fills the night.

JULIA C. R. DORR-A Red Rose.

I am thinking of the lilac-trees,

That shook their purple plumes,
And when the sash was open,

Shed fragrance through the room.
MRS. ANNA S. STEPHENSThe Old Apple-Tree.



Yet, the great ocean hath no tone of power Mightier to reach the soul, in thought's hushed

hour, Than yours, ye Lilies! chosen thus and graced!

MRS. HEMANS-Sonnet. The Lilies of the Field.

The purple clusters load the lilac-bushes.

AMELIA B. WELBY-Hopeless Love.



The lily is all in white, like a saint, And so is no mate for me.



When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom'd,
And the great star early droop'd in the western

sky in the night, I mourn'd-and yet shall mourn with ever

returning spring. WALT WHITMAN-When Lilacs Last in the

Door-Yard Bloom'd. I. Leaves of Grass. With every leaf a miracle

and from this bush in the door-yard,

We are Lilies fair,

The flower of virgin light; Nature held us forth, and said,

“Lo! my thoughts of white. LEIGH Hunt—Songs and Chorus of the Flowers.



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