The sick do not ask if the hand that smoothes their pillow is pure, nor the dying care if the lips that touch their brow have known the kiss of sin.
The sick do not ask if the hand that smoothes their pillow is pure, nor the dying care if the lips that touch their brow have known the kiss of sin.
One can survive anything these days, except death, and live down anything except a good reputation.
Death and vulgarity are the only two facts in the nineteenth century that one cannot explain away.
Once can survive everything nowadays, except death.
What between the duties expected of one during one's lifetime, and the duties exacted from one after one's death, land has ceased to be either a profit or a pleasure. It gives one position, and prevents one from keeping it up.
All trials are trials for one's life, just as all sentences are sentences of death.
I want my food dead. Not sick, not dying, dead.
One can survive everything, nowadays, except death, and live down everything except a good reputation.
Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace.
The Governor was strong upon The Regulations Act The Doctor said that Death was but A scientific fact And twice a day the Chaplain called, And left a little tract.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories