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Henry David Thoreau Quotes

Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis. --Ralph Waldo Emerson

VIII



Music to hear, why hear\'st thou music sadly?

Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:

Why lov\'st thou that which thou receiv\'st not gladly,

Or else receiv\'st with pleasure thine annoy?

If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,

By unions married, do offend thine ear,

They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds

In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. 

Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,

Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;

Resembling sire and child and happy mother,

Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing:

  Whose speechless song being many, seeming one,

  Sings this to thee: \'Thou single wilt prove none.\'



IX



Is it for fear to wet a widow\'s eye,

That thou consum\'st thy self in single life?

Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die,

The world will wail thee like a makeless wife;

The world will be thy widow and still weep

That thou no form of thee hast left behind,

When every private widow well may keep

By children\'s eyes, her husband\'s shape in mind:

Look! what an unthrift in the world doth spend

Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;

But beauty\'s waste hath in the world an end,

And kept unused the user so destroys it.

  No love toward others in that bosom sits

  That on himself such murd\'rous shame commits.

 	--William Shakespeare

XCIII



So shall I live, supposing thou art true,

Like a deceived husband; so love\'s face

May still seem love to me, though alter\'d new;

Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place:

For there can live no hatred in thine eye,

Therefore in that I cannot know thy change.

In many\'s looks, the false heart\'s history

Is writ in moods, and frowns, and wrinkles strange. 

But heaven in thy creation did decree

That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell;

Whate\'er thy thoughts, or thy heart\'s workings be,

Thy looks should nothing thence, but sweetness tell.

  How like Eve\'s apple doth thy beauty grow,

  If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!



XCIV



They that have power to hurt, and will do none,

That do not do the thing they most do show,

Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,

Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow;

They rightly do inherit heaven\'s graces,

And husband nature\'s riches from expense;

They are the lords and owners of their faces,

Others, but stewards of their excellence.

The summer\'s flower is to the summer sweet,

Though to itself, it only live and die,

But if that flower with base infection meet,

The basest weed outbraves his dignity: 

  For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;

  Lilies that fester, smell far worse than weeds.

 	--William Shakespeare