WIST Quotations

Ingersoll, Robert Green -- Essay (1881-11) “The Christian Religion,” “Part 2” North American Review, Vol. 133, No. 300

Dave — Fri, 15 May 2026 18:38:51 +0000

For me, it is hard to see the plan or design in earthquakes and pestilences. It is somewhat difficult to discern the design or the benevolence in so making the world that billions of animals live only on the agonies of others. The justice of God is not visible to me in the history of this world. When I think of the suffering and death, of the poverty and crime, of the cruelty and malice, of the heartlessness of this “design” and “plan,” where beak and claw and tooth tear and rend the quivering flesh of weakness and despair, I cannot convince myself that it is the result of infinite wisdom, benevolence, and justice.

Robert Green Ingersoll (1833–1899) American lawyer, freethinker, orator
Essay (1881-11) “The Christian Religion,” “Part 2” North American Review, Vol. 133, No. 300

Collected in Allen Thorndike Rice (ed.), The Christian Religion, ch. 3 (1882).

Ingersoll, Robert Green -- Lecture (1872-01-29), “The Gods,” Fairbury Hall, Fairbury, Illinois

Dave — Sat, 03 Jan 2026 19:10:53 +0000

A devout clergyman sought every opportunity to impress upon the mind of his son the fact, that God takes care of all his creatures; that the falling sparrow attracts his attention, and that his loving kindness is over all his works.
Happening, one day, to see a crane wading in quest of food, the good man pointed out to his son the perfect adaptation of the crane to get his living in that manner. “See,” said he, “how his legs are formed for wading! What a long slender bill he has! Observe how nicely he folds his feet when putting them in or drawing them out of the water! He does not cause the slightest ripple. He is thus enabled to approach the fish without giving them any notice of his arrival.”
“My son,” said he, “it is impossible to look at that bird without recognizing the design, as well as the goodness of God, in thus providing the means of subsistence.”
“Yes,” replied the boy, “I think I see the goodness of God, at least so far as the crane is concerned; but after all, father, don’t you think the arrangement a little tough on the fish?”

Robert Green Ingersoll (1833–1899) American lawyer, freethinker, orator
Lecture (1872-01-29), “The Gods,” Fairbury Hall, Fairbury, Illinois

First given on the 135th birthday of Thomas Paine. Collected in The Gods and Other Lectures (1876).

Mackay, Charles -- Poem (1849?), “There Is No Such Thing as Death”

Dave — Mon, 18 Aug 2025 16:26:37 +0000

There is no such thing as death.
In nature nothing dies.
From each sad remnant of decay
Some forms of life arise.

Charles Mackay (1814–1889) Scottish poet, journalist, song writer
Poem (1849?), “There Is No Such Thing as Death”

This poem is widely attributed to Mackay, but there is reason to doubt this. I was unable to find the poem in any collection of Mackay poetry.

The earliest reference I can find to the passage is in Eliza Cook's Journal, No. 34 (1849-12-22), where this is part of st. 3 of the poem. It is identified there as being written by Charlotte Young. I cannot find any other attributions to Young for this poem (and cannot find out anything more about a poet by that name who would have been writing in 1849).

The poem (with various numbers of stanzas) was very popular in the last half of the 19th Century, appearing as newspaper filler, memorial bulletins, and books of hymns and sacred poetry alike. All of these uses of it have the poem unattributed or "Anonymous" (earliest: 1857-02, 1859-11, 1859-11-17, 1859-12-17, 1860-02-15, 1860-08-28). Further use of the poem, unattributed, continue through the rest of the 19th Century.

In an "Answers from Readers" column in the New York Times (1913-11-23), the poem (well, the full stanza) is asserted to have written by Mackay; that is the earliest such attribution I can find.

In Kate Louis Roberts, ed., Hoyt's New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations (1922), it (just this portion) is also identified as being written by Mackay; after that, Mackay is credited in all sources I can find.

In summary, Mackay has become associated with this poem, most strongly by an attribution the popular Hoyt's in 1922, though there is at least one earlier reference. Prior to that it was identified for a number of decades, even after Mackay's death, as Anonymous, with the earliest reference I can find attributing it to a Charlotte Young.

Peters, Ellis -- Cadfael Chronicles No. 21, Brother Cadfael’s Penance, ch. 1 (1994)

Dave — Thu, 27 Feb 2025 17:03:29 +0000

He had never before been quite so acutely aware of the particular quality and function of November, its ripeness and its hushed sadness. The year proceeds not in a straight line through the seasons, but in a circle that brings the world and man back to the dimness and mystery in which both began, and out of which a new seed-time and a new generation are about to begin. Old men, thought Cadfael, believe in that new beginning, but experience only the ending. It may be that God is reminding me that I am approaching my November. Well, why regret it? November has beauty, has seen the harvest into the barns, even laid by next year’s seed. No need to fret about not being allowed to stay and sow it, someone else will do that. So go contentedly into the earth with the moist, gentle, skeletal leaves, worn to cobweb fragility, like the skins of very old men, that bruise and stain at the mere brushing of the breeze, and flower into brown blotches as the leaves into rotting gold. The colours of late autumn are the colours of the sunset: the farewell of the year and the farewell of the day. And of the life of man? Well, if it ends in a flourish of gold, that is no bad ending.

Ellis Peters (1913–1995) English writer, translator [pseud. of Edith Mary Pargeter, who also wrote under the names John Redfern, Jolyon Carr, Peter Benedict]
Cadfael Chronicles No. 21, Brother Cadfael’s Penance, ch. 1 (1994)

Omar Khayyam -- Rubáiyát [رباعیات], Bod. # 129 [tr. FitzGerald (1859), # 23]

Dave — Fri, 23 Aug 2024 14:09:59 +0000

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust Descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and — sans End!

Omar Khayyám (1048–1123) Persian poet, mathematician, philosopher, astronomer [عمر خیام]
Rubáiyát [رباعیات], Bod. # 129 [tr. FitzGerald (1859), # 23]

FitzGerald used the same translation for all his editions, though the number changed -- #23 in the 1st, #26 in the 2nd, and #24 in the 3rd, 4th, and 5th. editions.

Other translations:

Yon rolling heaven for our destruction, yours and mine,
Aims its stroke at our lives, yours and mine;
Come, live, sit on the grass - it will not be long
Ere grass grows out of our dust, yours and mine.
[tr. Cowell (1858), # 3]

This wheel of heaven seeks my destruction and thine, it plots against my soul and thine. Come, seat thyself upon the grass, for in a little while fresh grass will spring from this dust of mine and thine.
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 358]

The wheel of heaven still holds his set design
To take away thy life, O love and mine,
Sit we on this green turf, 'twill not be long
Ere turf will hide my dust along with thine
[tr. Whinfield (1882), # 205]

O Love, for ever doth heaven's wheel design
To take away thy precious life, and mine;
Sit we upon this turf, 't will not be long
Ere turf shall grow upon my dust, and thine!
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 390]

The "wheel of heaven" in its Fatal Play
Will soon our Breath of Being steal away, --
Come rest thee on this bank, for from our dust
Will spring the Vedure at no distant day.
[tr. Garner (1887), 3.3]

The wheel of Heaven thy death and mine is bringing, friend!
Over our lives the cloud of doom 't is flinging, friend!
Come, sit upon this turf, for little time is left
Ere fresher turf shall from our dust be springing, friend!
[tr. M. K. (1888)]

Beautiful wheel of blue above my head,
Will you be turning still when I am dead?
Were you still turning long before I came? --
O bitter thought to take with me to bed.
[tr. Le Gallienne (1897), # 54]

The heavenly vault, for the sake of my destruction and thine,
wages war upon my pure sole and thine;
Sit upon the green sward, O my Idol! for it will not be long
ere that green sward shall grow from my dust and thine.
[tr. Heron-Allen (1898), # 129]

Against our dear lives holding its design,
This wheel of Heaven doth plot thy death and mine;
Come sit upon this grass, 'twill not be long
Ere verdure springs up from my dust and thine.
[tr. Thompson (1906), # 442]

The Heavens, that they may destroy us both,
On our pure souls to war are nothing loth;
Sit down, my Idol, on the grass, for soon
My dust and thine shall aid its vernal growth.
[tr. Talbot (1908), # 129]

This wheel of Heaven, for the sake of my destruction
and thine, has designs upon my pure soul and thine.
Sit down on the grass, o idol, for it will not be long
ere grass shall spring from my dust and thine.
[tr. Christensen (1927), # 35]

This Wheel of the Spheres revolves for your annihilation and for mine,
It has evil intentions on your pure soul and on mine.
Rest on the meadow, my Iove, for not much time will pass.
Until grass springs from your dust and from mine.
[tr. Rosen (1928), # 262]

This Wheel of time effaces me and thee,
To slaughter us it chases me and thee;
Sit on the lawn and love, for time arrives
When lawn would hide our traces, me and thee.
[tr. Tirtha (1941), # 2.53]

Allow no shadow of regret to cloud you,
No absurd grief to overcast your days.
Never renounce love-songs, or lawns, or kisses
Until your clay lies mixed with elder clay.
[tr. Graves & Ali-Shah (1967), # 24]

This wheel of heaven, in order to destroy me and thee, has fell purpose against my innocent soul and thine: sit on the grass, and drink wine, and be happy, for this grass shall spring from my dust and thine.
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 14]

The wheel of Fate is crooked. It destroys
Such innocent young souls as yours and mine:
So, joyously, sit down upon the grass
And while away this hour in drinking wine.
Alas! the herbage which delights our eyes,
On which you now recline your lovely head,
Is rooted in the dust of loves -- and
Will spring from ours one day when we are dead.
[alt. tr. Bowen (1976), # 14]

Don’t permit sorrow to be your friend
Sadness and pain become your trend
Don’t let the book or the farm you tend
Rule your life before to earth you descend.
[tr. Shahriari (1998), literal]

Before to dust you shall return
There is one thing that you must learn
Sorrow and pain your soul shall burn
Joy and bliss to light shall turn.
[tr. Shahriari (1998), figurative]

Bierce, Ambrose -- “Edible,” The Cynic’s Word Book (1906)

Dave — Tue, 23 Apr 2024 15:27:52 +0000

EDIBLE, adj. Good to eat, and wholesome to digest, as a worm to a toad, a toad to a snake, a snake to a pig, a pig to a man, and a man to a worm.

Ambrose Bierce (1842–1914?) American writer and journalist
“Edible,” The Cynic’s Word Book (1906)

Included in The Devil's Dictionary (1911). Originally published in the "Devil's Dictionary" column in the San Francisco Wasp (1882-12-23).

Omar Khayyam -- Rubáiyát [رباعیات], Bod. # 135, ll. 3-4 [tr. M. K. (1888)]

Dave — Fri, 22 Mar 2024 05:30:10 +0000

Go, sit in the shade of the rose, for every rose
That springs from the earth, again to earth soon goes away!

Omar Khayyám (1048–1123) Persian poet, mathematician, philosopher, astronomer [عمر خیام]
Rubáiyát [رباعیات], Bod. # 135, ll. 3-4 [tr. M. K. (1888)]

Other translations:

And look -- a thousand Blossoms with the Day
Woke -- and a thousand scatter'd into Clay
[tr. FitzGerald, 1st ed. (1859), # 8]

Morning a thousand Roses brings, you say;
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of yesterday?
[tr. FitzGerald, 2nd Ed (1868), # 9]

Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say:
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?
[tr. FitzGerald, 3rd ed. (1872), # 9; same in later editions]

Sit in the shade of the rose, for many times this rose from earth has come, and unto earth has gone.
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 463]

Sit we beneath this rose, which many a time
Has sunk to earth, and sprung from earth again.
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 414]

Sit in the shade of the rose, for, by the wind, many roses
have been scattered to earth and have become dust.
[tr. Heron-Allen (1898), # 135]

Sit we 'neath this rose shade, for many a rose
Wind strewn in earth has turned to earth again!
[tr. Thompson (1906), # 522]

Sit in her fragrant bower, for oft the wind
Hath strewn and turn'd to dust such flowers as these.
[tr. Talbot (1908), # 135]

Rest in the shadow of the rose, for many of its leaves will the rose
Shed on the earth while we lie under the earth.
[tr. Rosen (1928), # 270]

Stay, Dearest One! beneath the rosy shade,
The roses bloom for Thee but soon would blight.
[tr. Tirtha (1941), # 3.7]

Rest in the rose's shade, though winds have burst
A world of blossoml petals fall to dust --
[tr. Graves & Ali-Shah (1967), # 74, ll. 1-2]

Sit in the rose's shadow, for oftentimes this rose shall spill upon the dust, when we are dust.
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 5a]

The Rosetree spills her petals in the dust,
And nothing of her fragrant harvest saves;
And yet this Rose, a plaything of the breeze,
Will bloom each year when we are in our graves.
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 5b]

Emerson, Ralph Waldo -- Journal (1840-07-13/14)

Dave — Tue, 20 Dec 2016 04:02:46 +0000

We are all boarders on one table — White man, black man, ox and eagle, bee, & worm.

Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882) American essayist, lecturer, poet
Journal (1840-07-13/14)

Watterson, Bill -- Calvin and Hobbes (1991-01-06)

Dave — Sun, 01 Feb 2004 16:00:00 +0000

CALVIN: (walking through snowy field) You know, Hobbes, it seems the only time most people go outside is to walk to their cars. We have houses, electricity, plumbing, heat …. Maybe we’re so sheltered and comfortable that we’ve lost touch with the natural world and forgotten our place in it. Maybe we’ve lost our awe of nature. That’s why I want to ask you, as a tiger, a wild animal close to Nature, what you think we’re put on Earth to do. What’s our purpose in life? Why are we here?

HOBBES: (stating the obvious) We’re here to devour each other alive.

CALVIN: (back in the house, yelling) Turn on the lights! Turn up the heat!

Bill Watterson (b. 1958) American cartoonist
Calvin and Hobbes (1991-01-06)