Andrew Lang Quotes
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Here’s a pot with a cot in a parkIn a park where the peach-blossoms blew,Where the lovers eloped in the dark,Lived, died and were changed into twoBright birds that eternally flewThrough the boughs of the may, as they sang;’T is a tale was undoubtedly trueIn the reign of the Emperor Hwang.
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There’s a joy without canker or cark,There’s a pleasure eternally new,’T is to gloat on the glaze and the markOf china that’s ancient and blue.
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If indeed there be a god in heaven.
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Among the various forms of science which are reaching and affecting the new popular tradition, we have reckoned Anthropology. Pleasantly enough, Anthropology has herself but recently emerged from that limbo of the unrecognised in which Psychical Research is pining.
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The windy lights of Autumn flare;I watch the moonlit sails go by;I marvel how men toil and fare,The weary business that they play!Their voyaging is vanity,And fairy gold is all their gain,And all the winds of winter cry,'My Love returns no more again.'
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They hear like ocean on a western beachThe surge and thunder of the Odyssey.
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Politicians use statistics in the same way that a drunk uses lamp-posts-for support rather than illumination.