User:Meduer

Created pages

 * Byron (film)
 * Anne-Laure Bondoux (French Wikiquote)

Significant contributions

 * Honoré de Balzac
 * Nicholas Nickleby
 * Stendhal

Witty or humorous

 * There once was a man in Nantucket Whose poll numbers really did suck it; At least he is not That orange pol pot Who ate all his meals from a bucket.
 * Stephen Colbert, limerick from The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, 25th of November 2021


 * Wine in; truth out.
 * Charles Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby, Chapter XXVII

Now she's at rest—and so am I.
 * Here lies my wife: here let her lie!
 * John Dryden, Epitaph intended for his wife


 * My father was a mulatto, my grandfather was a Negro, and my great-grandfather a monkey. You see, Sir, my family starts where yours ends.
 * Alexandre Dumas, in response to a racist comment directed at him

Powerful or meaningful

 * The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.
 * Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey


 * So gleams the past, the light of other days, Which shines, but warms not with its powerless rays.
 * Lord Byron, Sun of the Sleepless, from Hebrew Melodies


 * Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom, On thee shall press no ponderous tomb; But on thy turf shall roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom. And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream, And lingering pause and lightly tread; Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the dead! Away; we know that tears are vain, That death nor heeds nor hears distress; Will this unteach us to complain? Or make one mourner weep the less? And thou—who tell'st me to forget, Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.
 * Lord Byron, Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom, from Hebrew Melodies


 * I don't want anyone to admire my pants in a museum.
 * Frédéric Chopin


 * What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows. No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass. No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night. No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance. No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began. A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.
 * W. H. Davies, Leisure, from Songs of Joy and Others


 * Of all fruitless errands, sending a tear to look after a day that is gone is the most fruitless.
 * Charles Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby, Chapter X


 * If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.
 * Emily Dickinson, Life


 * Farewell all joys, O death come close mine eyes: More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.
 * Orlando Gibbons, The Silver Swan


 * Chante ! Milton chantait ; chante ! Homère a chanté. Le poète des sens perce la triste brume ; L'aveugle voit dans l'ombre un monde de clarté. Quand l'oeil du corps s'éteint, l'oeil de l'esprit s'allume.
 * Victor Hugo, À un poète aveugle, from Les Contemplations


 * Busy, curious, thirsty fly! Drink with me and drink as I: Freely welcome to my cup, Couldst thou sip and sip it up: Make the most of life you may, Life is short and wears away. Both alike are mine and thine Hastening quick to their decline: Thine's a summer, mine no more, Though repeated to threescore. Threescore summers, when they're gone, Will appear as short as one!
 * William Oldys, Busy, Curious, Thirsty Fly

God said, "Let Newton be!" and all was light.
 * Nature and Nature's laws lay hid in night:
 * Alexander Pope, epitaph intended for Isaac Newton


 * We — are we not formed, as notes of music are, For one another, though dissimilar?
 * Percy Bysshe Shelley, Epipsychidion


 * Punctuality is the thief of time.
 * Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray


 * A true friend is one who stabs you in the front.
 * Disputed (possibly Oscar Wilde)


 * Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal; bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better.
 * T. S. Eliot, The Sacred Wood