Thomas Hardy

'Justice' was done, and the President of the Immortals (in Aeschylean phrase) had ended his sport with Tess.

'Peace upon earth!' was said. We sing it, And pay a million priests to bring it. After two thousand years of mass We've got as far as poison-gas.

A local thing called Christianity.

A lover without indiscretion is no lover at all.

A novel is an impression, not an argument.

And meadow rivulets overflow, And drops on gate-bars hang in a row, And rooks in families homeward go, And so do I.

Argument is powerless against bias or prejudice.

At once a voice outburst among The bleak twigs overhead In a full-hearted evensong Of joy illimited; An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small, In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul Upon the growing gloom. So little cause for carollings Of such ecstatic sound Was written on terrestrial things Afar or nigh around, That I could think there trembled through His happy good-night air Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew And I was unaware.

Ce que je maintiens, c'est que la guerre fait joliment bien dans l'histoire et que la paix fournit une pauvre lecture.

Der Kampf zwischen Geist und Fleisch kann tödlich enden.

Die Seelen der Menschen fühlen sich vielleicht in immer innigerer Übereinstimmung mit einer Außenwelt von jener Schwermut, die unserem Geschlecht, als es noch jung war, einfach häßlich vorkam. Die Zeit scheint nahe, da einzig der herbe Adel eines Moors und des Meeres oder eines Gebirges das in der Natur ist, was mit der Gemütsverfassung des nachdenklicheren Teils der Menschheit völlig im Einklang steht.

Done because we are too menny.

Ein Argument ist machtlos gegen Vorurteil und Voreingenommenheit.

Ein Liebhaber, der nicht indiskret ist, ist kein Liebhaber.

Good, but not religious-good.

Her occasional pretty and picturesque use of dialect words-those terrible marks of the beast to the truly genteel.

Human beings, in their generous endeavour to construct a hypothesis that shall not degrade a First Cause, have always hesitated to conceive a dominant power of a lower moral quality than their own.

I am the family face; Flesh perishes, I live on, Projecting trait and trace Through time to times anon, And leaping from place to place Over oblivion.

I look into my glass, And viewing wasting skin, And say, 'Would God it came to pass My heart had shrunk as thin!' For then, I, undistrest, By hearts grown cold to me, Could lonely wait my endless rest With equanimity. But Time, to make me grieve, Part steals, lets part abide; And shakes this fragile frame at eve With throbbings of noontide.

If Galileo had said in verse that the world moved, the Inquisition might have let him alone.

If way to the Better there be, it exacts a full look at the worst.

In a solitude of the sea Deep from human vanity, And the Pride of Life that planned her, stilly couches she. Steel chambers, late the pyres Of her salamandrine fires, Cold currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres. Over the mirrors meant To glass the opulent The sea-worm crawls-grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.

In the third-class seat sat the journeying boy And the roof-lamp's oily flame Played down on his listless form and face, Bewrapt past knowing to what he was going, Or whence he came.

It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.

It was at present a place perfectly accordant with man's nature-neither ghastly, hateful, nor ugly:neither commonplace, unmeaning, nor tame; but, like man, slighted and enduring; and withal singularly colossal and mysterious in its swarthy monotony. As with some persons who have long lived a past, solitude seemed to look out of its countenance. It had a lonely face, suggesting tragical possibilities.

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