Humorous Sayings

Ere the Earth was, or the skies were, I Had a Soul, and with it my desire To drink the Wine of Life, and never cease To drain the Cup until it was quite dry.

And still the Vine her ancient Ruby yields, And still a Garden by the Water builds: Ah, take the Cash in hand and waive the Rest; Oh, the brave Music of a distant Drum!

For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Play'd by the Magic Lantern born of Night, And into perfect Light begins to flow.

What, without asking, hither hurried whence? And, without asking, whither hurried hence! Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that Hour of thine!

Look to the Rose that blows about us—'Lo, Laughing,' she says, 'into the World I blow, At once the silken Tassel of my Purse Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.'

Dreaming when Dawn's left hand was in the Sky I heard a Voice within the Tavern cry, 'Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry.'

And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, End in the Nothing all Things end in—Yes—Then fancy while thou art, thou art but what Thou shalt be—Nothing—Thou shalt not be less.

Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane, The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again: How oft hereafter rising shall she look Through this same Garden after me—in vain!

We are no other than a moving row Of Magic Shadow-shapes that come and go Round with the Sun-illumined Lantern held In Midnight by the Master of the Show;

For some we loved, the loveliest and the best That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest, Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, And one by one crept silently to rest.

Ah, fill the Cup:—what boots it to repeat How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday, Why fret about them if To-day be sweet!

And those who husbanded the Golden Grain, And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain, Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd As, buried once, Men want dug up again.

The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd, Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep, They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.

A Moment's Halt—a momentary taste Of Being from the Well amid the Waste—And lo! the Phantom Caravan has reach'd The Nothing it set out from—Oh, make haste!

And this I know: whether the one True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite, One Flash of it within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright.

Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.

Ignorance is God's prison. Knowledge is God's palace.

The desire to know your own soul will end all other desires.

Your heart is the size of an ocean. Go find yourself in its hidden depths.

Stop acting so small. You are the universe in ecstatic motion.