Adela Florence Nicolson Quotes
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Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar.Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell?Whom do you lead on Rapture's roadway, far,Before you agonise them in farewell?
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Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheel,Less than the rust that never stained thy sword,
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I would have rather felt you round my throatCrushing out life, than waving me farewell!
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Less than the weed that grows beside thy door
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For this is wisdom: to live, to take what fate, or the Gods, may give.
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Often devotion to virtue arises from sated desire.
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Men should be judged not by their tint of skin, the gods they serve, the vintage they drink, nor by the way they fight, or love, or sin, but by the quality of the thought they think.
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Red lips like a living, laughing rose.