But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.
Lord ByronRead
My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief, Are mine alone!
Interpretation
This quote expresses a sense of loss and reflection on the fleeting nature of love and life.
In this quote, Lord Byron reflects on the passage of time and the inevitable decline that comes with aging. The imagery of 'yellow leaf' symbolizes a life that is waning, while the mention of grief and decay suggests feelings of loneliness and melancholy as love and joy fade away, leaving behind sorrow and regret.
In practice
In a eulogy, to express the beauty and tragedy of life.
But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.
It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
For what were all these country patriots born? To hunt, and vote, and raise the price of corn?
Absence - that common cure of love.
Her great merit is finding out mine; there is nothing so amiable as discernment.
But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew, upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
Life is a magic vase filled to the brim, so made that you cannot dip from it nor draw from it; but it overflows into the hand that drops treasures into it. Drop in malice and it overflows hate; drop in charity and it overflows love.
But it's just because the chances are all against you, just because there is so little hope, that life is sweet over here.
If you want to know, life is the principle of self-renewal, it is constantly renewing and remaking and changing and transfiguring itself.
Life is - the way God has given it to me was just a platter - a golden platter of life laid out there for me. It's been beautiful.
It has been my face. It's got older still, or course, but less, comparatively, than it would otherwise have done. It's scored with deep, dry wrinkles, the skin is cracked. But my face hasn't collapsed, as some with fine feature have done. It's kept the same contours, but its substance has been laid waste. I have a face laid waste.
Certainly people have a lot tougher situations than I've had to deal with. But I will say we are all dying from the moment we are born. This is not just rehearsal.
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