Nothing doth more hurt in a state than that cunning men pass for wise.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Nothing is more damaging to a state than that cunning men pass for wise.
quote by Francis Bacon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every man wishes to be wise, and they who cannot be wise are almost always cunning.
quote by Samuel Johnson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magic And Loss
When you pass through the fire
you pass through humble
You pass through a maze of self doubt
When you pass through humble
the lights can blind you
Some people never figure that out
You pass through arrogance you pass through hurt
You pass through an ever present past
and it's best not to wait for luck to save you
Pass through the fire to the light
As you pass through the fire
your right hand waving
there are things you have to throw out
That caustic dread inside your head
will never help you out
You have to be very strong
'cause you'll start from zero
over and over again
And as the smoke clears
there's an all consuming fire
lying straight ahead
They say no one person can do it all
but you want to in your head
But you can't be Joyce
so what is left instead
You're stuck with yourself
and a rage that can hurt you
You have to start at the beginning again
And just this moment
This wonderful fire started up again
When you pass through humble
when you pass through sickly
When you pass through
I'm better than you all
When you pass through
anger and self deprecation
and have the strength to acknowledge it all
When the past makes you laugh
and you can savor the magic
that let you survive your own war
You find that that fire is passion
and there's a door up ahead not a wall
As you pass through fire as you pass through fire
trying to remember its name
When you pass through fire licking at your lips
you cannot remain the same
And if the building' burning
move towards that door
but don't put the flames out
There's a bit of magic in everything
and then some loss to even
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the Old Age of the Soul
I do not choose to dream; there cometh on me
Some strange old lust for deeds.
As to the nerveless hand of some old warrior
The sword-hilt or the war-worn wonted helmet
Brings momentary life and long-fled cunning,
So to my soul grown old -
Grown old with many a jousting, many a foray,
Grown old with namy a hither-coming and hence-going -
Till now they send him dreams and no more deed;
So doth he flame again with might for action,
Forgetful of the council of elders,
Forgetful that who rules doth no more battle,
Forgetful that such might no more cleaves to him
So doth he flame again toward valiant doing.
poem by Ezra Pound
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You Who Have Never Been There....
what then doth the bird
learn from the cage?
what doth the bare limb
learn from the snow?
what doth the starving child
learn from his hunger?
what doth the homeless man
learn from the lighted window?
what doth the oppressed
learn from his oppression?
what doth the one discriminated against
learn from discrimination?
what doth the hopeless one
learn from his despair?
is it that easy for you to know,
you who have never been there?
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Cunning Man
A cunning manner has been absorbed
By the builders of logic, the philosophers;
Subduing thoughts travelling into ideas,
Jostling with common people and their minds.
Minds are too much, minds excel according
To the brains of a rich heaven, the richer time.
A cunning leader may swerve in judgement
To give a solution, but when do we please
The tailors of windows and chairs? then
They are themselves, and are given fairness.
A cunning man is not a woman of craft
But a cunning man swerves in judgement.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Wherever You Are
These times have passed and gone
Its time that we moved on
Into a new tomorrow
And leave behind the hurt
The sorrow and the pain
cos tonight will never
Pass this way again
Wherever you are
Wherever you go
Wherever you stand
Let your shadow show
Whatever you think
Whatever you do
Whatever you want
Let your feelings show
These times have passed and gone
Its time that we moved on
Into a new tomorrow
And leave behind the hurt
The sorrow and the pain
cos tonight will never
Pass this way again
cos tonight will never
Pass this way again
Just like the winter sun
That hides behind the dawn
Just like the shifting sands
That ride upon the storm
Tonight will never
Pass this way again
cos tonight will never
Pass this way again
cos tonight will never
Pass this way again
cos tonight will never
Pass this way again
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Doubt is an uneasy and dissatisfied state from which we struggle to free ourselves and pass into the state of belief; while the latter is a calm and satisfactory state which we do not wish to avoid, or to change to a belief in anything else.
quote by Charles Sanders Peirce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Half As Much
I've been up and and down the highway
And i've seen what a man can do
To some little girl along the byway
That's why i sing this song to you
If you find your baby's gone
And you don't know where or when
You wonder, yes you wonder
If you'll ever see him again
Just remember, remember
These simple words i brought
Soon it won't hurt half as much
No it won't hurt half as much
No it won't hurt half as much as you thought
'cause i been up and down the highway
And i watch them as they pass by
Broken hearts and i wish that they'd go my way
I'd save them every little teardrop they cry
Won't you listen?
If you think you can't go on
And life ain't got it for you no more
You're waitin' every night
For him to come walkin' through that door
Just remember, remember
These simple words that i brought
Soon it won't hurt half as much
No it won't hurt half as much
No it won't hurt half as much as you thought
Well, it won't hurt half as much
No, it won't hurt half as much
Lord, it won't hurt half as much as you though
Fades
And everytime you're sad, you cry
You feel like you...
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nursery Rhyme For A Twenty-First Birthday
You cannot see the walls that divide your hand
From his or hers or mine when you think you touch it.
You cannot see the walls because they are glass,
And glass is nothing until you try to pass it.
Beat on it if you like, but not too hard,
For glass will break you even while you break it.
Shout, and the sound will be broken and driven backwards,
For glass, though clear as water, is deaf as granite.
This fraudulent inhibition is cunning: wise men
Content themselves with breathing patterns on it.
Submitted by Stephen Fryer
poem by Arthur Seymour John Tessimond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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(It Won't Hurt) Half As Much
(Bert Berns)
I've been up and and down the highway
And I've seen what a man can do
To some little girl along the byway
That's why I sing this song to you
If you find your baby's gone
And you don't know where or when
You wonder, yes you wonder
If you'll ever see him again
Just remember, remember
These simple words I brought
Soon it won't hurt half as much
No it won't hurt half as much
No it won't hurt half as much as you thought
'Cause I been up and down the highway
And I watch them as they pass by
Broken hearts and I wish that they'd go my way
I'd save them every little teardrop they cry
Won't you listen?
If you think you can't go on
And life ain't got it for you no more
You're waitin' every night
For him to come walkin' through that door
Just remember, remember
These simple words that I brought
Soon it won't hurt half as much
No it won't hurt half as much
No it won't hurt half as much as you thought
Well, it won't hurt half as much
No, it won't hurt half as much
Lord, it won't hurt half as much as you though
FADES
And everytime you're sad, you cry
You feel like you...
(Transcribed by ear; corrections requested and welcomed!)
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pass It Around
I wish I had a place to stay in l.a. for a week or so.
I feel like bein jive, hangin out, maybe go to mexico.
cause dreamin, baby, thats the way I wanna be.
Just wanna sit in a tree, sail out to sea, live like some fantasy, ahh baby.
cause Im tired of thinkin, and too much drinkin, all my troubles away.
Tired of goin to get layed at the lost and found.
Tired of dealin with love hurt feelings, and all I got to say,
In view of all thats been goin down,
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.
I wonder why Im doin, what Ive been doin for a while.
Cant say its the money, no, so maybe its the style.
cause dreamin, baby, thats the way that I like it.
Just wanna get on a plane, go some place insane, throw myself one real good fit.
cause Im tired of thinkin, and too much drinkin, all my troubles away.
Tired of goin to get layed at the lost and found.
Tired of dealin with love hurt feelings, and all I got to say,
In view of all thats been goin down,
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.
Listen to me baby.
Pass it around.
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.
I want to pass it around.
I want to get on out and pass it around.
I want to pass it around.
cause Im tired of thinkin, and too much drinkin, all my troubles away.
I want to pass it around.
Tired of goin to get layed at the lost and found.
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.
Tired of dealin with love hurt feelings, and all I got to say,
I want to pass it around.
In view of all thats been goin down,
I think Ill go on out and pass it around.
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Hunter Bold
An owl, in his solitary state,
Sits motionless and yet,
He's watching with an expert eye,
For the arrival of sunset.
Throughout the night he'll hunt for food,
Swift and silently he flies,
Beneath the branches thick with leaves,
And then across the moonlit skies.
He is a very wise old bird,
Content to sit and wait,
For creatures scurrying in the undergrowth,
Something tasty for his supper plate.
With saucer feathered eyes, and a mottled breast,
He reigns, in his patch, supreme,
A dream in flight, a hunter bold,
A schemer with a cunning scheme.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Through a Glass Darkly
What we, when face to face we see
The Father of our souls, shall be,
John tells us, doth not yet appear;
Ah! did he tell what we are here!
A mind for thoughts to pass into,
A heart for loves to travel through,
Five senses to detect things near,
Is this the whole that we are here?
Rules baffle instincts--instinct rules,
Wise men are bad--and good are fools,
Facts evil--wishes vain appear,
We cannot go, why are we here?
O may we for assurance's sake,
Some arbitrary judgement take,
And wilfully pronounce it clear,
For this or that 'tis we are here?
Or is it right, and will it do,
To pace the sad confusion through,
And say:--It doth not yet appear,
What we shall be, what we are here?
Ah yet, when all is thought and said,
The heart still overrules the head;
Still what we hope we must believe,
And what is given us receive;
Must still believe, for still we hope
That in a world of larger scope,
What here is faithfully begun
Will be completed, not undone.
My child, we still must think, when we
That ampler life together see,
Some true result will yet appear
Of what we are, together, here.
poem by Arthur Hugh Clough
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Seamen Three
Seamen three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.
Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be;
In a bowl Care may not be.
Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Three Men of Gotham
SEAMEN three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.--
And your ballast is old wine.
Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be.--
In a bowl Care may not be.
Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.--
And your ballast is old wine.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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You Hurt Me
Well the sun came up this morning
Like a burning red balloon
It broke into my window
And it slipped across the room
It spread itself upon me
Like the smell of sweet perfume
I was sleeping like a baby
I'm not a saviour
I'm not a saint
I'm not an angel
I'm not that quaint
Don't need a preacher
To be that wise
Don't need a teacher -
I've got my eyes...
You hurt me & i hate you
You hurt me
A history of bitterness
You have left a blazing trail
If you had been a hammer
I'd be a broken nail
You gave me nothing -
Nothing but regrets
Don't think it's over -
It's not over yet
You hurt me & i hate you
You hurt me...
And everytime
You try to fool yourself
You've only got yourself
To blame
And every lie you ever
Told yourself
Will all come back to you
One day
song performed by by Eurythmics
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pain and Hurt
born in to pain and hurt
growing in pain and hurt
living in pain and hurt
sleeping in pain and hurt
waking in pain and hurt
cuting in pain and hurt
bleeding in pain and hurt
crying in pain and hurt
i know nothing other then pain and hurt
i use drugs to end the pain and hurt
but all i get is pain and hurt
is there nothing other then pain and hurt
in this painful and hurtful world?
poem by Anna Sprague
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Ay Me, Ay Me, I Sigh the Scythe A-field
Ay me, ay me, I sigh to see the scythe a-field;
Down goeth the grass, soon wrought to wither'd hay:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that beauty needs must yield,
And princes pass, as grass doth fade away.
Ay me, ay me, that life can not have lasting leave,
Nor gold take hold of everlasting joy:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that time hath talents to receive,
And yet no time can make a suer stay.
Ay me, ay me, that wit can not have wished choice,
Nor wish can win that will desires to see:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that mirth can promise no rejoice,
Nor study tell what afterward shall be.
Ay me, ay me, that no sure staff is given to age,
Nor age can give sure wit that youth will take:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, that no counsel wise and sage
Will shun the show that all doth mar and make.
Ay me, ay me, come, Time, shear on and shake thy hay,
It is no boot to balk thy bitter blows:
Ay me, alas! ay me, alas, come, Time, take everything away,
For all is thine, be it good or bad, that grows.
poem by Anonymous Americas
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Touchstone: The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.
line from As You Like It, Act V, Scene 1 by William Shakespeare (1599)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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