Out of a fired ship, which by no way
But drowning could be rescued from the flame,
Some men leap'd forth, and ever as they came
Near the foes' ships, did by their shot decay;
So all were lost, which in the ship were found,
They in the sea being burnt,
They in the burnt ship drown'd.
Of what use for us is a man who, although he has long practiced philosophy, has never upset anyone?
Diogenes of sinope on Plato, according to themistius
The superstition that we must drive from the Earth is that which, making a tyrant of God, invites men to become tyrants.
Voltaire in On Superstition
The progress of an artist is a continual self-sacrifice, a continual extinction of personality.
T.S. Eliot in Tradition and the Individual talent
What’s the difference between a king and a poor man if they would both end the same bundle of white bones.
Zhuangzi
The absence of evidence is not the evidence of absence.
Carl sagan (Note: There are variations on this quote that long predate Sagan’s)
HONORABLE MENTIONS:
You live off the crumbs that fall from the festive table of my genius.
Kurban Said in Ali and Nino [Not so much wisdom as a wicked burn]
To roam Giddily and be everywhere, but at home, Such freedom doth a banishment become.
John donne in a Poetic letter to rowland woodward
Lions are not the slaves of those who feed them, it is the feeders, rather, who are the lion’s slaves. For fear is the mark of a slave, and wild beasts make men fearful.
Diogenes the cynic
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Mark but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is;
It sucked me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be;
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead,
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pampered swells with one blood made of two,
And this, alas, is more than we would do.
Oh stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, nay more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is;
Though parents grudge, and you, w'are met,
And cloistered in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that, self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.
Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail, in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it sucked from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st and say that thou
Find'st not thy self, nor me the weaker now;
"Tis true; then learn how false, fears be:
Just so much honor, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 