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Thread: Quote Me A Piece Of Writing That You Really, Really Love :)

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    “A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.”
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    He spoke, and returned madly to the same reflection, and his tears stirred the water, and the image became obscured in the rippling pool. As he saw it vanishing, he cried out ‘Where do you fly to? Stay, cruel one, do not abandon one who loves you! I am allowed to gaze at what I cannot touch, and so provide food for my miserable passion!’ While he weeps, he tears at the top of his clothes: then strikes his naked chest with hands of marble. His chest flushes red when they strike it, as apples are often pale in part, part red, or as grapes in their different bunches are stained with purple when they are not yet ripe.

    As he sees all this reflected in the dissolving waves, he can bear it no longer, but as yellow wax melts in a light flame, as morning frost thaws in the sun, so he is weakened and melted by love, and worn away little by little by the hidden fire. He no longer retains his colour, the white mingled with red, no longer has life and strength, and that form so pleasing to look at, nor has he that body which Echo loved. Still, when she saw this, though angered and remembering, she pitied him, and as often as the poor boy said ‘Alas!’ she repeated with her echoing voice ‘Alas!’ and when his hands strike at his shoulders, she returns the same sounds of pain. His last words as he looked into the familiar pool were ‘Alas, in vain, beloved boy!’ and the place echoed every word, and when he said ‘Goodbye!’ Echo also said ‘Goodbye!

    He laid down his weary head in the green grass, death closing those eyes that had marvelled at their lord’s beauty.

    And even when he had been received into the house of shadows, he gazed into the Stygian waters. His sisters the Naiads lamented, and let down their hair for their brother, and the Dryads lamented. Echo returned their laments. And now they were preparing the funeral pyre, the quivering torches and the bier, but there was no body. They came upon a flower, instead of his body, with white petals surrounding a yellow heart.
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    "Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.”
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    The Brazen Age

    To this came next in course, the brazen age:
    A warlike offspring, prompt to bloody rage,
    Not impious yet...
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    I love this next quote, from Jobs' speech. Forgive me if I have used it before.


    “Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.”









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    "Things change. And friends leave. Life doesn't stop for anybody.”
    Last edited by Erikmen; 21-04-2017 at 22:08.
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    The Iron Age

    Hard steel succeeded then:
    And stubborn as the metal, were the men.
    Truth, modesty, and shame, the world forsook:
    Fraud, avarice, and force, their places took.
    Then sails were spread, to every wind that blew.
    Raw were the sailors, and the depths were new:
    Trees, rudely hollow'd, did the waves sustain;
    E're ships in triumph plough'd the watry plain.
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    “Well, now
    If little by little you stop loving me
    I shall stop loving you
    Little by little
    If suddenly you forget me
    Do not look for me
    For I shall already have forgotten you."
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    Dinners and banquets offer easy access to women's favour, and the pleasures of the grape are not the only entertainment you may find there; Love, with rosy cheeks, often presses in her frail hands the amphora of Bacchus. As soon as his wings are drenched with wine, Cupid grows drowsy and stirs not from his place. But anon he'll be up and shaking the moisture from his wings, and woe betide the man or woman who receives a sprinkling of this burning dew. Wine fills the heart with thoughts of love and makes it prompt to catch on fire. All troubles vanish, put to flight by copious draughts.
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    "They say when you are missing someone that they are probably feeling the same, but I don't think it's possible for you to miss me as much as I'm missing you right now”
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    "Be not afraid of going slowly be afraid of standing still."
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    Then is the time for laughter, the poor man plucks up courage and imagines he's a millionaire. To the deuce with worries and troubles! Brows unpucker and hearts expand; every tongue's inspired by frankness, and calls a spade a spade. We've often lost our heart to a pretty girl at dinner. Bringing love and wine together is adding fuel to fire indeed. Don't judge a woman by candle-light, it's deceptive. If you really want to know what she's like, look at her by daylight, and when you're sober. It was broad daylight, and under the open sky, that Paris looked upon the three goddesses and said to Venus, "You are lovelier than your two rivals." Night covers a multitude of blemishes and imperfections. At night there is no such thing as an ugly woman! If you want to look at precious stones, or coloured cloth, you take them out into the light of day; and it's by daylight you should judge a woman's face and figure.
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    “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.”
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    The nymph, when nothing could Narcissus move,
    Still dash'd with blushes for her slighted love,
    Liv'd in the shady covert of the woods,
    In solitary caves and dark abodes;
    Where pining wander'd the rejected fair,
    'Till harrass'd out, and worn away with care,
    The sounding skeleton, of blood bereft,
    Besides her bones and voice had nothing left.
    Her bones are petrify'd, her voice is found
    In vaults, where still it doubles ev'ry sound.
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    “Someday, somewhere - anywhere, unfailingly, you'll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.”

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