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This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.

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Contempt Envy Grant High Lying Mean

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

His faith, perhaps, in some nice tenets might Be wrong; his life, I’m sure, was in the right.
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God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
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For the whole world, without a native home, Is nothing but a prison of larger room.
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Till the whole stream, which stopped him, should be gone, That runs, and as it runs, for ever will run on.
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I would not fear nor wish my fate, but boldly say each night, to-morrow let my sun his beams display, or in clouds hide them; I have lived today.
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Let’s banish business, banish sorrow; To the gods belong to-morrow.
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Who that has reason, and his smell, Would not among roses and jasmin dwell?
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Life is an incurable disease.
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What a brave privilege is it to be free from all contentions, from all envying or being envied, from receiving or paying all kinds of ceremonies!
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Fill all the Glasses there; for why Should every Creature Drink but I? Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?
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Does not the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetic variety than the voyages of Ulysses or Aeneas?
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Fill the bowl with rosy wine, around our temples roses twine, And let us cheerfully awhile, like wine and roses, smile.
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Life for delays and doubts no time does give, None ever yet made haste enough to live.
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I never had any other desire so strong, and so like covetousness, as that
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The spade, the plough-share, and the rake) Arts, in most cruel wise Man’s left to epitomize!
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