Shrouds Quotes - Page 3

• We measure our presence in generations; we cannot dig down ten thousand years and find our bones. Our arrival is scribed upon the line of history; it does not drift upon the winds of story, or float upon the shrouds of myth. We are still explorers and discoverers, seeking meaning through movement and examination. But we are coming to a time of listening. Our sweat and breath are now upon this land. Voices rise up, and we begin to hear the echoes in the stones.

  Kent Nerburn

  Years, Wind, Land

  Kent Nerburn (1996). “A Haunting Reverence: Meditations on a Northern Land”

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• Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends, And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends; White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud Howl o'er the masts, and sing through every shroud: Pale, trembling, tir'd, the sailors freeze with fears; And instant death on every wave appears.

  Homer

  Clouds, Wind, White

  Homer (1818). “The Iliad of Homer. Translated by A. Pope. A new edition. Adorned with plates”, p.342

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• I remember what it was like to grow up in the South in the 1960s and 1970s. Discrimination isn’t something that’s easy to oppose. It doesn’t always stare you in the face. It moves in the shadows. And sometimes it shrouds itself within the very laws meant to protect us.

  Tim Cook

  Growing Up, Moving, Law

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• Glory is a shroud that posterity often tears from the shoulders of those who wore it when living.

  Pierre-Jean de Beranger

  Tears, Glory, Shoulders

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• Methinks some creeds in vestries and churches do forget the hunter wrapped in furs by the Great Slave Lake, and that the Esquimauxsledges are drawn by dogs, and in the twilight of the northern night the hunter does not give over to follow the seal and walrus on the ice. They are of sick and diseased imaginations who would toll the world's knell so soon. Cannot these sedentary sects do better than prepare the shrouds and write the epitaphs of those other busy living men? The practical faith of all men belies the preacher's consolation.

  Henry David Thoreau

  Dog, Twilight, Writing

  Henry David Thoreau (1906). “The Writings of Henry David Thoreau: Journal, ed. by B. Torrey, 1837-1846, 1850-Nov. 3, 1861”

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• It is not however, adulthood itself, but parenthood that forms the glass shroud of memory. For there is an interesting quirk in the memory of women. At 30, women see their adolescence quite clearly. At 30 a woman's adolescence remains a facet fitting into her current self.... At 40, however, memories of adolescence are blurred. Women of this age look much more to their earlier childhood for memories of themselves and of their mothers. This links up to her typical parenting phase.

  Terri E Apter

  Mother, Memories, Women

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• We are to remember what an umpire Nature is; what a greatness, composure of depth and tolerance there is in her. You take wheat to cast into the Earth's bosom; your wheat may be mixed with chaff, chopped straw, barn-sweepings, dust and all imaginable rubbish; no matter: you cast it into the kind just Earth; she grows the wheat, - the whole rubbish she silently absorbs, shrouds it in, says nothing of the rubbish.

  Thomas Carlyle

  Greatness, Umpires, Dust

  Thomas Carlyle (1840). “On Heroes, Hero-worship and the Heroic in History”, p.73, CUP Archive

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• The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the Year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying. . . .

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Lying, Flower, Years

  Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Percy Bysshe Shelley, John Keats (1829). “The Poetical Works of Coleridge, Shelley, and Keats: Complete in One Volume”

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• An unfolding technology has increased our economic strength and added to the convenience of our lives. But that same technology-we know now-carries danger with it. From the great smoke stacks of industry and from the exhausts of motors and machines, 130 million tons of soot, carbon and grime settle over the people and shroud the Nation's cities each year. From towns, factories, and stockyards, wastes pollute our rivers and streams, endangering the waters we drink and use.

  Lyndon B. Johnson

  Technology, Years, Cities

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• ... photography is an imprint or transfer off the real; it is a photochemically processed trace causally connected to the thing in the world to which it refers in a manner parallel to fingerprints or footprints or the rings of water that cold glasses leave on tables. The photograph is thus generically distinct from painting or sculpture or drawing. On the family tree of images it is closer to palm prints, death masks, the Shroud of Turin, or the tracks of gulls on beaches.

  Rosalind E. Krauss

  Photography, Beach, Real

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• Seven cities warred for Homer, being dead, Who, living, had no roof to shroud his head.

  Thomas Heywood

  Cities, Fame, Seven

  The Hierarchy of the Blessed Angels (1635)

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• When the melancholy fit shall fall Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, And hides the green hill in an April shroud; Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose.

  John Keats

  Morning, Flower, Fall

  'Ode on Melancholy' (1820) st. 2

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• My early self-portraits appeared effortlessly and seemed like equivalents for my deeper emotions. Many critics remarked that the images had an almost other-worldly haunting presence. For me, they were simply my own reality at that point in my life. What I was trying to reveal was my inner soul in all its fragile complexity. Without knowing it, I was trying to peel back the layers that shroud and bind us all as we struggle to reveal our own authentic selves.

  Joyce Tenneson

  Photography, Struggle, Reality

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• The fashion magazines are suggesting that women wear clothes that are 'age appropriate.' For me that would be a shroud.

  Joan Rivers

  Fashion, Clothes, Age

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• What we want now is an immense awakening of Râjasika energy, for the whole country is wrapped in the shroud of Tamas. The people of this land must be fed and clothed-must be awakened -must be made more fully active. Otherwise they will become inert, as inert as trees and stones. So, I say, eat large quantities of fish and meat, my boy!

  Swami Vivekananda

  Country, Boys, Land

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• I come from down south, where vegetation does not know its place. Honeysuckle can work through cracks in your walls and strangle you while you sleep. Kudzu can completely shroud a house and a car parked in the yard in one growing season. Wisteria can lift a building off its foundation, and certain terrifying mints spread so rapidly that just the thought of them on a summer night can make your hair stand on end.

  Bailey White

  Summer, Wall, Sleep

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• Chain me with roaring bears;
  Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,
  O'er-covered quite with dead men's rattling bones,
  With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;
  Or bid me go into a new-made grave,
  And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;
  Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;
  And I will do it without Fear or Doubt,
  To live an unstain'd Wife of my sweet Love.

  William Shakespeare

  Sweet, Men, Skulls

  William Shakespeare (2014). “Romeo and Juliet”, p.127, StarWalk Kids Media

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• Bodies of holy men and women exude
  Miraculous oil, odour of violet.
  But under heavy loads of trampled clay
  Lie bodies of the vampires full of blood;
  Their shrouds are bloody and their lips are wet.

  William Butler Yeats

  Truth, Lying, Men

  William Butler Yeats (2010). “The Collected Works of W.B. Yeats Volume I: The Poems: Revised Second Edition”, p.239, Simon and Schuster

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• If rich men would remember that shrouds have no pockets, they would, while living, share their wealth with their children, and give for the good of others, and so know the highest pleasure wealth can give.

  Tryon Edwards

  Children, Men, Giving

  Tryon Edwards (2015). “The New Dictionary of Thoughts”, p.1493, Ravenio Books

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• Art is the closest you can get to immortality, though it's a poor substitute - you're working for people not yet born - and people want it because it is brilliant. It ends up in museums anyway; the rich have to give it back to the people, it's their only option. There are no pockets in a shroud.

  Damien Hirst

  Art, Museums, People

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• No matter how deep and dark your pit, how dank your shroud, their heads are heroically unbloody and unbowed.

  Ogden Nash

  Grief, Dark, Pits

  Ogden Nash (1954). “Many long years ago”

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• Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed; and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.

  Moby

  Yawning, Years, Sea

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• THERE IS NO mystery to happiness. Unhappy men are alike. Some wound they suffered long ago, some wish denied, some blow to pride, some kindling spark of love put out by scorn--or worse, indifference--cleaves to them, or they to it, and so they live each day within a shroud of yesterdays. The happy man does not look back. He doesn't look ahead. He lives in the present.

  Jed Rubenfeld

  Pride, Blow, Men

  Jed Rubenfeld (2008). “The Interpretation of Murder”, p.12, Hachette UK

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• The boy was lying, fast asleep, on a rude bed upon the floor; so pale with anxiety, and sadness, and the closeness of his prison, that he looked like death; not death as it shews in shroud and coffin, but in the guise it wears when life has just departed; when a young and gentle spirit has, but an instant, fled to Heaven: and the gross air of the world has not had time to breathe upon the changing dust it hallowed.

  Charles Dickens

  Lying, Sadness, Boys

  Charles Dickens (2015). “Oliver Twist: Classic English Literature”, p.144, 谷月社

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• Obstinate are the trammels, but my heart aches when I try to break them. Freedom is all I want, but to hope for it I feel ashamed. I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee, and that thou art my best friend, but I have not the heart to sweep away the tinsel that fills my room. The shroud that covers me is a shroud of dust and death; I hate it, yet hug it in love. My debts are large, my failures great, my shame secret and heavy; yet when I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest my prayer be granted.

  Rabindranath Tagore

  Art, Prayer, Fear

  Rabindranath Tagore (2013). “Gitanjali - Song Offerings”, p.28, Read Books Ltd

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