A Quote by Euripides

But woe to him, who left to moan, Reviews the hours of brightness gone. — © Euripides
But woe to him, who left to moan, Reviews the hours of brightness gone.

Quote Author

Woe to him whom this world charms from Gospel duty. Woe to him who seeks to pour oil upon the waters when God has brewed them into a gale. Woe to him who seeks to please rather than to appal. Woe to him whose good name is more to him than goodness. Woe to him who, in this world, courts not dishonor! Woe to him who would not be true, even though to be false were salvation. Yea, woe to him who, as the great Pilot Paul has it, while preaching to others is himself a castaway.
Woe to him that claims obedience when it is not due; woe to him that refuses it when it is.
Woe to the man who in the first moments of a love-affair does not believe that it will last forever! Woe to him who even in the arms of some mistress who has just yielded to him maintains an awareness of trouble to come and foresees that he may later tear himself away!
I saw that the bride within the bridal dress had withered like the dress, and like the flowers, and had no brightness left but the brightness of her sunken eyes.
Song in the Manner of Housman" O woe, woe, People are born and die, We also shall be dead pretty soon Therefore let us act as if we were dead already. The bird sits on the hawthorn tree But he dies also, presently. Some lads get hung, and some get shot. Woeful is this human lot. Woe! woe, etcetera.... London is a woeful place, Shropshire is much pleasanter. Then let us smile a little space Upon fond nature's morbid grace. Oh, Woe, woe, woe, etcetera.
Woe to that man who runs when God has not sent him; and woe to him who refuses to run, or who ceases to run, when God has sent him.
We thrust our fingers into our ears to stop its moan; but it was no good; the cry cut like a drill into our heads, dragging minutes into hours, hours into years. We withered and grew old between those cries.
So let me be thy choir, and make a moan Upon the midnight hours.
And when love is over when the diner of love seems closed from the outside you want all those hours back along with anything you left at the lover’s house and maybe a couple of things which aren’t technically yours on the grounds that you wasted a portion of your life and those hours have all gone southside.
You moan, "She left me." "He left me," Twenty more will come.
Woe, woe, woe... in a little while we shall all be dead. Therefore let us behave as though we were dead already.
Woe, woe, woe... in a little while we shall all be dead. Therefore let us behave as though we were dead already.
I read all the reviews. I remember the first review I ever read about our band was, 'They'll be gone tomorrow; they'll be gone quicker than they came.'
But yet, but yet, woe, woe unto those who think that the Beat Generation means crime, delinquency, immorality, amorality ... woe unto those who attack it on the grounds that they simply don't understand history and the yearning of human souls ... woe in fact unto those who make evil movies about the Beat Generation where innocent housewives are raped by beatniks! ... woe unto those who spit on the Beat Generation, the wind'll blow it back.
I am in the Pitte, but I have gone so deep that I can see the brightness of the Starres at Noon.
I've seen many shows ruined by bad reviews and good reviews, so I always tell my actors not to read the reviews until after the run is over.
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