A Quote by William Falconer

With living colours give my verse to glow: The sad memorial of a tale of woe! — © William Falconer
With living colours give my verse to glow: The sad memorial of a tale of woe!
There is no more terrible woe upon earth than the woe of the stricken brain, which remembers the days of its strength, the living light of its reason, the sunrise of its proud intelligence, and knows that these have passed away like a tale that is told.
A sense of humor is rare. It isn't telling a joke about how there are three ways to get to heaven. It's being in a restaurant and hearing someone say, Everyone's got their tale of woe, and then turning around and saying, Unfortunately, in life, there's more woe than tail.
The hues of bliss more brightly glow, Chastis'd by sabler tints of woe.
I needed more stuff that glowed so when the lights went out, you could actually see me the whole time. So I slowly built it from there. I wanted everything to glow. I want my hair to glow, I want my nails to glow, I want my eyes to glow, I want my lips to glow, you know?
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.
In Ezekiel, chapter 33, verse 11, it says, that 'God has no pleasure in the person that's living in sin.' He's a loving God and he wants people to turn away from what they're living in and he'll give them life. That's the message I'm trying to share, even though it comes across as harsh.
Give not thyself up, then, to fire, lest it invert thee, deaden thee, as for the time it did me. There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness.
Sainthood emerges when you can listen to someone's tale of woe and not respond with a description of your own.
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.
Yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow for other's good, and melt at other's woe.
And that's the way of a real tale. Take any one that you're fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of a tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don't know. And you don't want them to.
Yes, I am sad, sad as a circus-lioness, sad as an eagle without wings, sad as a violin with only one string and that one broken, sad as a woman who is growing old. Sad, sad, sad.
Nail the colours to the mast! That is the right thing to do, and, therefore, that is what we must do, and do it now. What colours? The colours of Christ, the work He has given us to do- the evangelization of all the unevangelized.
Prostrate on earth the bleeding warrior lies, And Isr'el's beauty on the mountains dies. How are the mighty fallen! Hush'd be my sorrow, gently fall my tears, Lest my sad tale should reach the alien's ears: Bid Fame be dumb, and tremble to proclaim In heathen Gath, or Ascalon, our shame Lest proud Philistia, lest our haughty foe, With impious scorn insult our solemn woe.
Every successive generation becomes a living memorial of our public schools, and a living example of their excellence.
A child gets moral notions from the fairy-tales he delights in, as do his elders from tale and verse.
This site uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience. More info...
Got it!