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- Light be the earth upon you, lightly rest.
- Euripides (484 BC - 406 BC), Alcestis, 438 B.C.
- Slight not what's near through aiming at what's far.
- Euripides (484 BC - 406 BC), Rhesus, circa 435 B.C.
- Every advantage in the past is judged in the light of the final issue.
- Demosthenes (384 BC - 322 BC), First Olynthiac
- Never find your delight in another's misfortune.
- Publilius Syrus (~100 BC), Maxims
- When you close your doors, and make darkness within, remember never to say that you are alone, for you are not alone; nay, God is within, and your genius is within. And what need have they of light to see what you are doing?
- Epictetus (55 AD - 135 AD), Discourses
- As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being.
- Carl Jung (1875 - 1961), "Memories, Dreams, Reflections", 1962
- My candle burns at both ends
It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - It gives a lovely light. - Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 - 1950), "A Few Figs from Thistles", 1920
- To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "Macbeth", Act 5 scene 5
- But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "Romeo and Juliet", Act 2 scene 1
- Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,-- Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "King Richard III", Act 1 scene 1
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