Search results for:
Man is of soul and body, formed for deeds
Of high resolve; on fancy's boldest wing.
Nietzche . . . he was a confirmed Life Force worshipper. It was he who raked up the Superman, who is as old as Prometheus; and the 20th century will run after this newest of the old crazes when it gets tired of the world, the flesh, and your humble servant.
I wonder men dare trust themselves with men.
This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And, when he thinks, good easy man, fully surely
His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
And then he falls as I do.
What the declined is
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others
As feel in his own fall; for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer,
And not a man, for being simply man,
Hath any honor, but honor for those honors
That are without him, as place, riches, and favor,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit;
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers,
The love that leaned on them as slippery too,
Doth one pluck down another, and together
Die in the fall.
A man, young lady! lady, such a man
As all the world--why he's a man of wax.
Are you good men and true?
His life was gentle, and the elements
So mixed in him that Nature might stand up
And say to all the world, 'This was a man!'
What, shall one of us,
That struck for the foremost man of all this world
But for supporting robbers--shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honors
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
Men at some time are masters of their fates.