Quote

Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours For one lone soul another lonely soul, Each choosing each through all the weary hours, And meeting strangely at one sudden goal, Then blend they, like green leaves with golden flowers, Into one beautiful and perfect whole And life's long night is ended, and the way Lies open onward to eternal day.

Edwin Arnold

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Edwin Arnold
Age: 72 †
Born: 1831
Born: June 10
Died: 1904
Died: March 24
Journalist
Poet
Gravesend
Kent
Sir Edwin Arnold
Way
Lying
Somewhere
Sudden
Love
Perfect
Green
Ended
Life
Night
Flower
Meeting
Onward
Like
Another
Lies
Flowers
Strangely
World
Beautiful
Eternal
Leaves
Blend
Soul
Open
Meetings
Lone
Whole
Goal
Golden
Choosing
Long
Hours
Lonely
Weary

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The royal kingcup bold Dares not don his coat of gold.
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Who doth right deeds Is twice born, and who doeth ill deeds vile.
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Life, which all creatures love and strive to keep Wonderful, dear and pleasant unto each, Even to the meanest yea, a boon to all Where pity is, for pity makes the world Soft to the weak and noble for the strong.
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Not a piece of architecture, as other buildings are, but the proud passions of an emperor's love wrought in living stones.
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Almond blossom, sent to teach us That the spring days soon will reach us.
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Shall any gazer see with mortal eyes, Or any searcher know by mortal mind Veil upon veil will lift but there must be Veil upon veil behind.
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We are the voices of the wandering wind, Which moan for rest and rest can never find Lo! as the wind is so is mortal life, A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife.
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Like a plank of driftwood Tossed on the watery main, Another plank encountered, Meets, touches, parts again So tossed, and drifting ever, On life's unresting sea, Men meet, and greet, and sever, Parting eternally.
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There is no caste in blood.
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Yet who shall shut out Fate?
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Where pity is, for pity makes the world Soft to the weak and noble for the strong.
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One can be a soldier without dying and a lover without sighing.
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Sleep - death without dying - living, but not life.
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That what will come, and must come, shall come well.
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Never the spirit was born the spirit shall cease to be never Never was time it was not End and Beginning are dreams! Birth-less and deathless and changeless remaineth the spirit forever. Death hath not touched it all, dead though the house of it seems!
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Within yourself deliverance must be searched for, because each man makes hiw own prison.
Edwin Arnold