POST'EM

Post your feet

What am I to do with this?

>there is laughter in the vestibule of the temple, the echo of laughter in the temple itself, but only faith and prayer, and no laughter in the holy of holies

>What is this jest in majesty? This ass in passion?

>on the trembling lip of manhood, a preteen face enveloping an ancient soul, like he’s already seen them come and seen them go, and so what?

>I sat with arms folded, one hip on the window sill, dying of hate and boredom.

>Mr. Barry Lyndon is as unprincipled a personage as ever has figured at the head of a history, and as the public will persist in having a moral appended to such tales, we beg here respectfully to declare that we take the moral of the story of Barry Lyndon, Esquire, to be, - that worldly success is by no means the consequence of virtue; that if it is effected by honesty sometimes, it is attained by selfishness and roguery still oftener; and that our anger at seeing rascals prosper and good men frequently unlucky, is founded on a gross and unreasonable idea of what good fortune really is.

>By him who arrives at each small state with the right password

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>if only you could have recognized what was always yours, could have found what was never lost.

>where are you hurrying to? You will never find that life for which you are looking. Death is the lot of man. So fill your belly with good things; day and night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water, cherish the little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in your embrace; for this too is the lot of man.

>That light we see is burning in my hall. / How far that little candle throws his beams! / So shines a good deed in a naughty world.