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Iran
Our Souls Sit Close And Silently Within, And Their Own Web From Their Own Entrails Spi
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Our souls sit close and silently within,
And their own web from their own entrails spin;
And when eyes meet far off, our sense is such,
That, spider-like, we feel the tenderest touch.
-- John Dryden (1631-1700)
-- Mariage a la Mode, Act ii, Sc. 1
Related:
T is not for nothing that we life pursue; It pays our hopes with something still that 's new.
-- John Dryden (1631-1700) -- Aurengzebe, Act iv, Sc. 1...
What precious drops are those Which silently each other's track pursue, Bright as young diamonds in their infant dew?
-- John Dryden (1631-1700) -- The Conquest of Granada, Part ii, Act iii, Sc. 1...
And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings....
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ea
oft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony....
Technique?" said the programmer turning from his terminal, "What I follow is Tao -- beyond all technique!
When I first began to program I would see before me the whole problem in one mass....
Why should we faint and fear to live alone, Since all alone, so Heaven has willed, we die?
Nor even the tenderest heart, and next our own, Knows half the reasons why we smile and sigh....
Burn daylight. -- John Dryden (1631-1700) -- The Maiden Queen, Act ii, Sc. 1
Bless the hand that gave the blow. -- John Dryden (1631-1700) -- The Spanish Friar, Act ii, Sc. 1
And wiped our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), As You Like It -- Act ii, Sc. 7...