Rough wind, that moanest loudGrief too sad for songWild wind, when sullen cloudKnells all the night longSad storm, whose tears are vain,Bare woods, whose branches strain,Deep caves and dreary main, - Wail, for the world's wrong
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Neither evil tongues, rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall ever prevail against us.
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And Nothing is very strong: strong enough to steal away a man's best years not in sweet sins but in a dreary flickering of the mind over it knows not what and knows not why, in the gratification of curiosities so feeble that the man is only half aware of them, in drumming of fingers and kicking of heels, in whistling tunes that he does not like, or in the long, dim labyrinth of reveries that have not even lust or ambition to give them a relish, but which, once chance association has started them, the creature is too weak and fuddled to shake off.
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The point is obvious. There is more than one way to burn a book. And the world is full of people running about with lit matches. Every minority, be it Baptist/Unitarian, Irish/Italian/Octogenarian/Zen Buddhist, Zionist/Seventhday Adventist, Women's Lib/Republican, Mattachine/Four Square Gospel feels it has the will, the right, the duty to douse the kerosene, light the fuse. Every dimwit editor whosees himself as the source of all dreary blanc-mange plain porridge unleavened literature, licks his guillotine and eyes the neck of any author who dares to speak above a whisper or write above a nursery rhyme.
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Cold in the earth - and the deep snow piled above thee, Far, far, removed, cold in the dreary grave!
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Be still sad heart and cease repining; Behind the clouds the sun is shining, Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life a little rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
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Be still sad heart and cease repining;
Behind the clouds the sun is shining,
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life a little rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
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Matthew 6:16:
'When you fast, do not look somber as the hypocrites do, for they disfigure their faces to show others they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full.'
(NIV)
And whenever you are fasting, do not look gloomy and sour and dreary like the hypocrites, for they put on a dismal countenance, that their fasting may be apparent to and seen by men. Truly I say to you, they have their reward in full already. [Isa. 58:5.](AMP)
Moreover when ye fast, be not, as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance: for they disfigure their faces, that they may appear unto men to fast. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.
(KJV)
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I have always felt that the moment when first you wake up in the morning is the most wonderful of the 24 hours. No matter how weary or dreary you may feel, you possess the certainty that ... absolutely anything may happen. And the fact that it practically always doesn't , matters not one jot. The possibility is always there.
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If your morals make you dreary, depend upon it, they are wrong
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If your morals make you dreary, depend on it, they are wrong.
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I'm nobody, who are you? Are you nobody too? Then there is two of us, Don't tell, they would banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody How public, like a frog To tell your name the live long day To an admiring bog.
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Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it.
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Dying is a very dull, dreary affair. And my advice to you is to have nothing whatever to do with it
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When life seems just a dreary grind; and things seem fated to annoy; say something nice to someone else and watch the world light up with joy.
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If your morals make you dreary, depend on it , they are wrong.
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Into each life some rain must fall, some days be dark and dreary.
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What has influenced my life more than any other single thing has been my stammer. Had I not stammered I would probably... have gone to Cambridge as my brothers did, perhaps have become a don and every now and then published a dreary book about French literature.
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Dying is a very dull, dreary affair. My advice to you is to have nothing whatever to do with it.
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Dying is a very dull, dreary affair. And my advice to you is to have nothing whatever to do with it.
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Death is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing whatsoever to do with it.
Death
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What makes life dreary is the want of a motive.
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