This site is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Alan William Smolowe who gave birth to the creation of this database.
Douglas Adams, fully Douglas Noel Adams
The technology involved in making anything invisible is so infinitely complex that nine hundred and ninety-nine billion, nine hundred and ninety-nine million, nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine times out of a trillion it is much simpler and more effective just to take the thing away and do without it.
O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again. Henry VIII (Wolsey at III, ii)
Beauty | Looks | Play | Truth | Virtue | Virtue | Youth | Youth | Beauty |
O no, thy love though much, is not so great, It is my love that keeps mine eye awake, Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, To play the watchman ever for thy sake. For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, From me far off, with others all too near.
Oh, what may man within him hide, though angel on the outward side!
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen! Then I, and you, and all of us fell down, whilst bloody treason flourished over us.
Oh, what a world of vile ill-favored faults looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
O, what authority and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal!
Without thinking that death will come, I am absorbed in plans for the future. After having done the many and futile activities of this life I will leave utterly empty-handed. What a blunder; as I will certainly need an understanding of the excellent Dharma (proper conduct). So why not practice now?
Hell is in the here and now. So is heaven. Quit worrying about hell or dreaming about heaven, as they are both present inside this very moment. Every time we fall in love, we ascend to heaven. Every time we hate, envy, or fight someone, we tumble straight into the fires of hell.
Change | Contentment | Daughter | Day | Life | Life | Light | Looks | Mind | Nothing | People | Power | Regret | Safe | Time | Will | Wonder | Wrong | Think |
Eleanor Brown, fully Nora Eleanor Louisa Hervey Brown
We all have stories we tell ourselves. We tell ourselves we are too fat, too ugly, or too old, or too foolish. We tell ourselves these stories because they allow us to excuse our actions, and they allow us to pass off the responsibility for things we have done-maybe to something within our control, but anything other than the decisions we have made.
Say that she frown, I'll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly washed with dew.
Say that she rail, why then I'll tell her plain she sings as sweetly as a nightingale. Say that she frown, I'll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly washed with dew. Say she be mute and will not speak a word, then I'll commend her volubility and say she uttereth piercing eloquence.
Looks |
She shall be buried by her Antony: no grave upon the earth shall clip in it a pair so famous.
She dreams of him that has forgot her love; you dote on her that cares not for your love. 'Tis pity love should be so contrary; and thinking of it makes me cry 'alas!
Say that upon the altar of her beauty you sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart: write till your ink be dry and with your tears moist it again, and frame some feeling line, that may discover such integrity.