The tyranny of relativism is the spiritual poverty of our time
The spirit of man, which God inspired, cannot together perish with this corporeal clod.
[Rhyme is] but the invention of a barbarous age, to set off wretched matter and lame Meter;. . . Not without cause therefore some both Italian and Spanish poets of prime note have rejected rhyme,. . . as have also long since our best English tragedies, as. . . trivial and of no true musical delight; which [truly] consists only in apt numbers, fit quantity of syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one verse into another, not in the jingling sound of like endings, a fault avoided by the learned ancients both in poetry and all good oratory.
In those vernal seasons of the year when the air is calm and pleasant, it were an injury and sullenness against nature not to go out and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven and earth.
All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.
The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection.
Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine.
I think, in many ways, certain people sought me out maybe because they liked my body language or they liked the way I wore a slit skirt, the way I cross my legs or carry my purse. It's quite inspiring to play the seduction card.
Growing up, I fantasized about being a rock musician and that somehow it would be really easy. I didn't realize that it's so much work.
Feel, he told himself, feel, feel, feel. Even if what you feel is pain, only let yourself feel.
True depression is a terribly real thing. Some of the noblest men and women in the world have been prone to it. . . They may have no reason for feeling more unhappy at that particular period than at any other. Their worldly circumstances may be just what they have been for a long time past, and perfectly satisfactory. But there suddenly closes down on them a fog of the mind which exaggerates and distorts everything.