cleaning up so well (jones_casey) wrote,
cleaning up so well

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why stand we like soft-hearted women here,
wailing our losses whiles the foe doth rage,
and look upon, as if the tragedy
were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?
here on my knee i vow to god above,
i'll never pause again, never stand still,
till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine,
or fortune given me measure of revenge.

each floor seemed to shelter a different and independent form of misery.

"depressed? i am never depressed."

"oh, surely, sometimes," replied mr. brand, as if he thought this a regrettable account of one's self.

"i am never depressed," gertrude repeated. "but i am sometimes wicked. when i am wicked i am in high spirits. i was wicked just now to my sister."

"what did you do to her?"

"i said things that puzzled her--on purpose."

"you need not be uneasy; you are more valuable to bleed than to kill. you can get out of the claws of my justice by payment of a good round sum to my treasury, but if you don't build at least one chapel in honor of the virgin, you are likely to find things hot for you throughout eternity."

dardanian women wring tears from their tender cheeks with both their hands in the grievousness of their great sorrow; thus shall they know that he who has held aloof so long will hold aloof no longer. hold me not back, therefore, in the love you bear me, for you shall not move me.

fierce in his soul was the struggle and tumult of passions contending;
love triumphant and crowned, and friendship wounded and bleeding,
passionate cries of desire, and importunate pleadings of duty!
"is it my fault," he said, "that the maiden has chosen between us?
is it my fault that he failed,--my fault that i am the victor?"

tuesday xci

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