Laertes: Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes.
line from Hamlet, Act I, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Messenger: Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds: ‘Laertes shall be king, Laertes king!’
line from Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 5 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Osric: How is ’t, Laertes?
Laertes: Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric; I am justly kill’d with mine own treachery.
line from Hamlet, Act V, Scene 2 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A good inclination is but the first rude draught of virtue, but the finishing strokes are from the will, which, if well disposed, will by degrees perfect it, as if all disposed will quickly deface it.
Paint body art beautiful
her majesty the hand
with nail graffiti polish
pain in henna red
paint in henna black
paint paint my heart
paint body art faithful
faithful to the strokes
paint in strokes divine
paint in strokes of red
paint in strokes of black
paint paint my heart
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dennis
Your strokes are the strokes of man and,
My archive is full of your story;
But my black box is for Dennis my friend.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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It's valid that the Strokes and the Pleased have been influenced by some of the same bands. But it's invalid in the sense that we listen to the Strokes and try to sounds like them. I think that they are a good band.
quote by Joanna Newsom
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And what does reward virtue? You think the communist commissar rewards virtue? You think a Hitler rewards virtue? You think, excuse me, if you'll pardon me, American presidents reward virtue? Do they choose their appointees on the basis of the virtue of the people appointed or on the basis of their political clout?
quote by Milton Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The effect of the virtue
A man of virtue practises virtue
Against the myriads of odds, so true,
And wove around him a crust of virtue
But his core remained as same underneath.
His libido is much in compression,
Capable of giving more explosions.
A man of virtue is a potential danger
From whom might spurt evils at any scale.
28.08.2000, Palasa
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The determined scholar and the man of virtue will not seek to live at the expense of injuring their virtue. They will even sacrifice their lives to preserve their virtue complete.
The determined scholar and the man of virtue will not seek to live at the expense of injuring their virtue. They will even sacrifice their lives to preserve their virtue complete.
Virtue alone is for real; all else is sham. Talent and greatness depend on virtue, not on fortune. Only virtue is sufficient unto herself. She makes us love the living and remember the dead.
quote by Baltasar Gracian
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Laertes: This nothing's more than matter.
line from Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 5 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Strokes Of My Pen
With the strokes of my pen
I'll write again
words that come into view.
And those that come upon my words
will know me as they do.
For my heart will speak to them
and say
you, my readers have found a way
to read the thoughts
I leave behind
and then you'll find
you know me.
You won't need to see
my presence at all.
For all my words will make the call
and bare my soul to you.
And you will know just who I am.
The strokes of my pen are the clue.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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A Mountaineer
ERE Beowulf's song
Was heard from the ships,
Ere Roland had set
The horn to his lips:
In Ogham strokes
A name was writ:
That name his name
Lives in yet.
The strokes on the edge
Of the stone might count
The acres he has
On this bare mount;
But he remembers
The pillar-stone,
And knows that he is
Of the seed of Eoin.
poem by Padraic Colum
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Homer And Laertes
Laertes: Gods help thee! and restore to thee thy sight!
My good old guest, I am more old than thou,
Yet have outlived by many years my son
Odysseus and the chaste Penelope.
Homer: Hither I come to visit thee and sing
His wanderings and his wisdom, tho my voice
Be not the voice it was.
Laertes: First let us taste
My old sound wine, and break my bread less old,
But old enough for teeth like thine and mine.
Homer: So be it! I sing best when such good cheer
Refreshes me, and such a friend as thou.
Laertes: Far hast thou wandered since we met, and told
Strange stories. Wert thou not afraid some God
Or Goddess should have siez'd upon thy ear
For talking what thou toldest of their pranks.
Homer: They often came about me while I slept
And brought me dreams, none painful, none profane;
They loved thy son, and for his sake loved me.
Laertes: Apollo, I well know, was much thy friend.
Homer: He did not treat me quite as Marsyas
Was treated by him: lest he should, I sang
His praise in my best chaunt: for Gods love praise.
Laertes: Have they enricht thee? for I see thy cloak is ragged.
Homer: Ragged cloak is poet's garb.
Laertes: I have two better; one of them for thee.
Penelope, who died five years ago,
Spun it; her husband wore it only once
And but one year, the anniversary
Of their espousal.
Homer: Wear it will I not,
But I will hang it on the brightest nail
Of the first temple where Apollo sits,
Golden-hair'd, in his glory.
Laertes: So thou shalt
If so it please thee: yet we first will quaff
The gift of Bakkos, for methinks his gifts
Are quite as welcome to the sons of song
And cheer them oftener.
(Girl enters.)
Maiden! come thou nigh
And sit thee down, and thou shalt hear a song
After a while which Gods may listen to;
But place the flask upon the board and wait
Until the stranger hath allaid his thirst,
For poets, grasshoppers, and nightingales
Sing cheerily but when the throat is moist.
Homer: I sang to maidens in my prime; again
(But not before the morrow) will I sing:
Let me repose this noontide, since in sooth
Wine, a sweet remedy for weariness,
Helps to uplift its burden.
Laertes: Lie then down
Along you mat bestrown with rosemary.
And, Agatha, do thou bring speedily
The two large ewers, and fill brimfull the bath
Capacious; that of brass; Penelope's
Own bath, wherein she laught to see her boy
Paddle, like cygnet with its broad black oars,
Nor shunn'd the chilly water he threw up
Against her face . . he who grew soon so sage!
Then do thou, maiden, from hot cauldron pour
Enough to make it soothing to the feet;
After, bring store of rushes, and long leaves
Of cane sweet-smelling, from the inland bank
Of that famed river far across the sea
Opposite, to our eyes invisible.
Be sure thou smoothen with both hands his couch
Who has the power to make both young and old
Live throughout ages.
Agatha: And look well throughout?
Laertes: Aye, aye, and better than they lookt before.
May thou rest well, old wanderer! Even the Gods
Repose, the Sun himself sinks down to rest.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
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Laertes: O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits should be as moral as an old man's life?
line from Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 5 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The number of strokes to the inch controls the pitch of the note: the more, the higher the pitch; the fewer, the lower the pitch, the size of the stroke controls the loudness... the tone quality is the most difficult element to control, it is made by the shape of the strokes.
quote by Norman McLaren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Laertes: Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, and therefore I forbid my tears.
line from Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 7 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Laertes: Adieu, my lord: I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly douts it.
line from Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 7 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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King Claudius: Laertes, was your father dear to you?
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a heart?
line from Hamlet, Act IV, Scene 7 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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