The Ballad Of Reading Gaol Quotes

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The Ballad Of Reading Gaol The Ballad Of Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde
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The Ballad Of Reading Gaol Quotes (showing 1-29 of 29)
“Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard
Some do it with a bitter look
Some with a flattering word
The coward does it with a kiss
The brave man with a sword”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“Each man kills the thing he loves.”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“For he who lives more lives than one
More deaths than one must die.”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“We know not whether laws be right
Or whether laws be wrong
All we know who lie in gaol
Is that the walls are strong
And each day is like a year
A year whose days are long.”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“Some love too little, some too long, Some sell, and others buy; Some do the deed with many tears, And some without a sigh: For each man kills the thing he loves, Yet each man does not die. He”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“Like two doomed ships that pass in storm
We had crossed each other's way:
But we made no sign, we said no word,
We had no word to say;”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“Silently we went round and round,
And through each hollow mind
The memory of dreadful things
Rushed like a dreadful wind,
And horror stalked before each man,
And terror crept behind.”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“For each man kills the thing he loves yet each man does not die
he does not die a death of shame on a day of dark disgrace
nor have a noose about his neck, nor a cloth upon his face
nor drop feet foremost through the floor into an empty space
He does not sit with silent men who watch him night and day
Who watch him when he tries to weep and when he tries to pray
Who watch him lest himself should rob the prison of its prey”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“I never saw sad men who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
We prisoners called the sky,
And at every happy cloud that passed
In such strange freedom by.”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“For Man's grim Justice goes its way, And will not swerve aside: It slays the weak, it slays the strong, It has a deadly stride: With iron heel it slays the strong, The monstrous parricide!”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“He did not wring his hands, as do
Those witless men who dare
To try to rear the changeling Hope
In the cave of black Despair.”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“Yet each man kills the things he loves”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“For lo, what changes time can bring! The cycles of revolving years May free my heart from all its fears, And teach my lips a song to sing. Before yon field of trembling gold Is garnered into dusty sheaves, Or ere the autumn’s scarlet leaves Flutter as birds adown the wold, I may have run the glorious race, And caught the torch while yet aflame, And called upon the holy name Of Him who now doth hide His face. ARONA.”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“My heart stole back across wide wastes of years To One who wandered by a lonely sea, And sought in vain for any place of rest: ‘Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest. I, only I, must wander wearily, And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.’ Poem:”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“For our high Gods have sick and wearied grown Of all our endless sins, our vain endeavour For wasted days of youth to make atone By pain or prayer or priest, and never, never, Hearken they now to either good or ill, But send their rain upon the just and the unjust at will. They sit at ease, our Gods they sit at ease, Strewing with leaves of rose their scented wine, They sleep, they sleep, beneath the rocking trees Where asphodel and yellow lotus twine, Mourning the old glad days before they knew What evil things the heart of man could dream, and dreaming do. And”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“He who lives more lives than one
More deaths than one must die”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“something was dead in each of us,
and what was dead was hope.”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“O we are wearied of this sense of guilt, Wearied of pleasure’s paramour despair, Wearied of every temple we have built, Wearied of every right, unanswered prayer, For man is weak; God sleeps: and heaven is high: One fiery-coloured moment: one great love; and lo! we die. Ah!”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“Within this restless, hurried, modern world We took our hearts’ full pleasure—You and I, And now the white sails of our ship are furled, And spent the lading of our argosy. Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan, For very weeping is my gladness fled, Sorrow has paled my young mouth’s vermilion, And Ruin draws the curtains of my bed. But all this crowded life has been to thee No more than lyre, or lute, or subtle spell Of viols, or the music of the sea That sleeps, a mimic echo, in the shell. Poem:”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“Thou art the same: ’tis I whose wretched soul Takes discontent to be its paramour, And gives its kingdom to the rude control Of what should be its servitor,—for sure Wisdom is somewhere, though the stormy sea Contain it not, and the huge deep answer ‘’Tis not in me.’ To”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“Nay! for perchance that poppy-crownèd god Is like the watcher by a sick man’s bed Who talks of sleep but gives it not; his rod Hath lost its virtue, and, when all is said, Death is too rude, too obvious a key To solve one single secret in a life’s philosophy. And”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“And I will sing how sad Proserpina Unto a grave and gloomy Lord was wed, And lure the silver-breasted Helena Back from the lotus meadows of the dead, So shalt thou see that awful loveliness For which two mighty Hosts met fearfully in war’s abyss! And”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“Which Painters hold, and such the heritage This gentle solemn Spirit doth possess, Being a better mirror of his age In all his pity, love, and weariness, Than those who can but copy common things, And leave the Soul unpainted with its mighty questionings. But”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“Tread lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone, She is at rest. Peace, Peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my life’s buried here, Heap earth upon it. AVIGNON Poem:”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“With beat of systole and of diastole One grand great life throbs through earth’s giant heart, And mighty waves of single Being roll From nerveless germ to man, for we are part Of every rock and bird and beast and hill, One with the things that prey on us, and one with what we kill. From”
Oscar Wilde, Ballad of Reading Gaol
“For all men kill the thing they love”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“همه ی مردم آن‌چه را که دوست می‌دارند می‌کشند
گروهی با نگاهی سرد یا خشم آلود می‌کشند
گروهی با چاپلوسی از پا در می‌آورند.
بزدل ها با بوسه می‌کشند و دلیران با شمشیر
برخی عشق خود را هنگام جوانی می‌کشند و برخی در روزگار پیری
گروهی با دست هوس خفه‌اش می‌کنند و جمعی دیگر با دست آزمندی
برای عده‌ای دوران عشق کمتر از آنچه باید دوام می آورد
و برای عده‌ای دیگر بیشتر از آن‌چه لازم است عمر می‌کند.
عده ای عشق خود را می‌فروشند و افرادی هم عشق می‌خرند
بعضی هنگام کشتن عشق خود اشک می‌ریزند
و بعضی خاموش می‌مانند
اما همه این‌ها همه ی آنچه را که دوست دارند می‌کشند
اما هیچ کس به مرگ محکوم نمی‌شود”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
“They glided past, they glided fast,
Like travellers through a mist:
They mocked the moon in a rigadoon
Of delicate turn and twist,
And with formal pace and loathsome grace
The phantoms kept their tryst”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
tags: poetry
“I know not whether Laws be right,
Or whether Laws be wrong;
All that we know who lie in gaol
Is that the wall is strong;
And each day is like a year,
A year whose day is long.”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol
tags: poetry