..(T)here are two opposite reasons for being a democrat. You may think all men so good that they deserve a share in the government of the commonwealth, and so wise that the commonwealth needs their advice. That is, in my opinion, the false, romantic doctrine of democracy. On the other hand, you may
The very idea of freedom presupposes some objective moral law which overarches rulers and ruled alike. Subjectivism about moral values is eternally incompatible with democracy. We and our rulers are of one kind only so long as we are subject to one law. But if there is no Law of Nature, the ethos of
Democracy demands that little men should not take big ones too seriously; it dies when it is full of little men who think they are big themselves.
O, reason not the need!
By how much unexpected, by so muchWe must awake endeavour for defence;For courage mounteth with occasion.
Like one who draws the model of a house beyond his power to build it who, half through, gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost a naked subject to the weeping clouds.
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
Though now this grained face of mine be hidIn sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow,And all the conduits of my blood froze up,Yet hath my night of life some memory,My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left,My dull deaf ears a little use to hear.
These violent delights have violent ends.
There's not a shirt and a half in all my company, and the halfshirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over theshoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves.
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.
Send danger from the east unto the west, so honor cross it from the north to south.
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow?If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,Threatening the welkin with his big-swollen face?
O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deemFor that sweet odour which doth in it live.
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.
Now the time is come,That France must veil her lofty-plumed crest,And let her head fall into England's lap.
Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie,And young affection gapes to be his heir;That fair for which love groan'd for and would die,With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
I am a man more sinned against than sinning
No .... holy father, throw away that thought.Believe not that the dribbling dart of loveCan pierce a complete bosom.
I long to hear the story of your life, which must captivate the ear strangely.
And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst.