Carpe Diem Dead Poets Society Quotes Novels & Stories

“Anyone? Our illustrious youth?” The old man walked about, reflecting, awaiting an answer he knew wouldn’t come. He faced the pews in his ankle-length crimson raiment. “Ecclesiastes tells us, ‘Remember him, before the silver cord is loosed and the clay pot doth break . . . for the dust returns to the ground as it was, and the spirit returns to the creator who gave it.’ ” One bony finger jutted toward the vault of the chapel ceiling, and Simon Julian stared out. “Good stuff, yes?” There were scattered chuckles. Richard caught himself smiling, his arms still crossed. He detected a hint of accent but wasn’t sure what it was.

• • • ~ “I ask not that my bed of death From bands of greedy heirs be free; For these besiege the latest breath Of fortune's favoured sons, not me. I ask not each kind soul to keep Tearless, when of my death he hears; Let those who will, if any, weep! There are worse plagues on earth than tears. I ask but that my death may find The freedom to my life denied; Ask but the folly of mankind, Then, at last, to quit my side. Spare me the whispering, crowded room, The friends who come, and gape, and go; The ceremonious air of gloom - All which makes death a hideous show! Nor bring, to see me cease to live, Some doctor full of phrase and fame, To shake his sapient head and give The ill he cannot cur

A Song With No End" she paused and recited from memory, "when Whitman wrote, "I sing the body electric" I know what he meant I know what he wanted: to be completely alive every moment in spite of the inevitable. we can't cheat death but we can make it work so hard that when it does take us it will have known a victory just as perfect as ours."

Once I sat engaged and waiting I heard a martyred, extrajudicial sentencing Death - tormentor of my dreams Deep into that darkness sanctioning 'Death!' said I, 'thing of demise.' I awoke and flung the grief My passion is the parched necrosis 'Death!' chuckled I, 'Yes Death!' ~~Theodora Twitty <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Scarlett

"Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility – We passed the School, where Children strove At Recess – in the Ring – We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain – We passed the Setting Sun – Or rather – He passed us – The Dews drew quivering and chill – For only Gossamer, my Gown – My Tippet – only Tulle – We paused before a House that seemed A Swelling of the Ground – The Roof was scarcely visible – The Cornice – in the Ground – Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet Feels shorter than the Day I first surmised the Horses’ Hea

And the people are starting to sing: Death will have no power over us. They will be one as a dead man nude. With the west moon and the man in the wind; When all of their bones have been picked clean and the clean bones have been removed, They'll have stars on their elbows and feet. They will remain sane even if they go insane. They will emerge from the sea, even if they sink. Even if couples are apart, love will endure. Death will have no power over us. Death will have no power over us.

I storm out Why won't anyone believe me, I have a real life vampires blood Arrg! after everything I went through, still just insults I did my study on those creatures for years, and I can still remember some of my favourite poetry and poems I read as a kid A Last Word by Ernest Dowson Let us go hence: the night is now at hand; The day is overworn, the birds all flown; And we have reaped the crops the gods have sown; Despair and death; deep darkness o'er the land,

It's been written to death. "No, June is immortal," cried Emily suddenly, a mutinous sparkle replacing the strained look in her eyes. She was not going to let Mr Carpenter have it all his own way. But Mr Carpenter had tossed June aside without reading a line of it. "'I weary of the hungry world'--what do you know of the hungry world?--you in your New Moon seclusion of old trees and old maids--but it is hungry. Ode to Winter--the seasons are a sort of disease all young poets must have, it seems--ha! 'Spring will not forget'--that's a good line--the only good line in it. H'm'm--Wanderings--

wonder plants. perfumed by poetry or—philosophy. the Ecosystem, the still neon-twinkling thought of. the world: you & me & this apparition of faces, Notre Dame burning out of time w/ Kreymborg flowers all phrasally rooted to the print composition of ‘vers libertines’ in Others. where is the Other in The Waste Pound & Other Poems? subjected to, quarterly slicing open, the social subjectile: my dear abiotic of the super blood wolf moon, Make it new!

“Oh I shall live your epitaph to make, Or you survive when I in earth am rotten, From hence your memory death cannot take, Although in me each part would be forgotten. Your name from hence immortal shall have, Though I, once gone, to all the world must die: The earth can yield me but a common grave, When you entombed in men’s eyes shall lie. Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o’er-read; And tongues to be your being shall rehearse, When all the breathers of this world are dead.