And the days dwindle down To a precious few, September, November - And these few precious days I'd spend with you, These golden days I'd spend with you |
From the point of view of the playwright, then, the essence of a tragedy, or even of a serious play, is the spiritual awakening, or regeneration, of his hero. |
He was a god, such as men might be, if men were gods. |
If you practice an art, be proud of it and make it proud of you It may break your heart, but it will fill your heart before it breaks it; it will make you a person in your own right. |
The gods of men are sillier than their kings and queens, and emptier and more powerless |
There are some men who lift the age they inhabit, till all men walk on higher ground in that lifetime |
There's a little gray house in a one-street town, And the door stands open, and the steps go down, And you prop up the window with a stick on the sill, And you carry spring water from the bottom of the hill; And the white star of Bethlehem grows in t |
This liberty will look easy by and by when nobody dies to get it |
What price Glory? |