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And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, says very wisely, "it is ten o'clock: thus we may see," quoth he, "how the world wags."

-William Shakespeare

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And, Looking On It With Lack-lustre Eye,

William Shakespeare

And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, says very wisely, "it is ten o'clock: thus we may see," quoth he, "how the world wags."

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    <p style="font-size: 1.2rem; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 10px;">"and, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, says very wisely, &quot;it is ten o&#039;clock: thus we may see,&quot; quoth he, &quot;how the world wags.&quot;"</p>
    <footer style="font-size: 1rem; font-weight: bold;">— William Shakespeare</footer>
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More From William Shakespeare

And then he drew a dial from his poke, and looking with lack-lustre eye, says very wisely, 'it is ten o'clock: thus we may see', quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'tis but an hour ago since it was nine, and after one hour more 'twill be eleven; and so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, and then from hour to hour we rot and rot.

It is impossible to live a pleasant life without living wisely and honorably and justly, and it is impossible to live wisely and honorably and justly without living pleasantly. whenever any one of these is lacking, when, for instance, the man is not able to live wisely, though he lives honorably and justly, it is impossible for him to live a pleasant life.

When i talk to a man, i can always tell what he's thinking by where he is looking. if he is looking at my eyes, he is looking for intelligence. if he is looking at my mouth, he is looking for wisdom. but if he is looking anywhere else except my chest he's looking for another man.

The eye through which i see god is the same eye through which god sees me; my eye and god's eye are one eye, one seeing, one knowing, one love.

Your death and my death are mainly of importance to ourselves. the black plumes will be stripped off our hearses within the hour; tears will dry, hurt hearts close again, our graves grow level with the church-yard, and although we are away, the world wags on. it does not miss us; and those who are near us, when the first strangeness of vacancy wears off, will not miss us much either.

The master says it's a glorious thing to die for the faith and dad says it's a glorious thing to die for ireland and i wonder if there's anyone in the world who would like us to live. my brothers are dead and my sister is dead and i wonder if they died for ireland or for the faith. dad says they were too young to die for anything. mam says it was disease and starvation and him never having a job. dad says, och, angela, puts on his cap, and goes for a long walk.

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