Quotes about shade
page 4

Alfred Stieglitz photo
William Blake photo

“Degrade first the arts if you'd mankind degrade,
Hire idiots to paint with cold light and hot shade.”

William Blake (1757–1827) English Romantic poet and artist

Annotations to Sir Joshua Reynolds's Discourses, title page (c. 1798–1809)
1790s

Bill Mollison photo
George W. Bush photo

“Yes, Peter. Are you going to ask that question with shades on?… I'm interested in the shade look, seriously…. For the viewers, there’s no sun.”

George W. Bush (1946) 43rd President of the United States

Teasing Los Angeles Times reporter Peter Wallsten during a White House press conference, unaware that Wallsten suffers from Stargardt’s disease and is partly blind.
"Bush shows his sensitive side, telling blind journalist: 'I'm interested in the shade look'" http://news.independent.co.uk/world/americas/article1089264.ece, The Independent, June 16, 2006.
2000s, 2006

George William Russell photo

“Here in these shades the Ancient knows itself, the Soul,
And out of slumber waking starts unto the goal.”

George William Russell (1867–1935) Irish writer, editor, critic, poet, and artistic painter

By Still Waters (1906)

Dag Hammarskjöld photo

“It is when we all play safe that we create a world of utmost insecurity. It is when we all play safe that fatality will lead us to our doom. It is in the "dark shade of courage" alone that the spell can be broken.”

Dag Hammarskjöld (1905–1961) Swedish diplomat, economist, and author

Servant of Peace : A Selection of the Speeches and Statements of Dag Hammarskjöld, Secretary General of the United Nations (1962), p. 107; this has sometimes been paraphrased: It is in playing safe that we create a world of utmost insecurity.

John Greenleaf Whittier photo
Cyrano de Bergerac photo
Lord Randolph Churchill photo
Robert Herrick photo
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow photo
Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton photo
Patrick Fitzgerald photo

“Let me then ask your next question: Well, why is this a leak investigation that doesn't result in a charge? I've been trying to think about how to explain this, so let me try. I know baseball analogies are the fad these days. Let me try something.If you saw a baseball game and you saw a pitcher wind up and throw a fastball and hit a batter right smack in the head, and it really, really hurt them, you'd want to know why the pitcher did that. And you'd wonder whether or not the person just reared back and decided, "I've got bad blood with this batter. He hit two home runs off me. I'm just going to hit him in the head as hard as I can."You also might wonder whether or not the pitcher just let go of the ball or his foot slipped, and he had no idea to throw the ball anywhere near the batter's head. And there's lots of shades of gray in between.You might learn that you wanted to hit the batter in the back and it hit him in the head because he moved. You might want to throw it under his chin, but it ended up hitting him on the head.And what you'd want to do is have as much information as you could. You'd want to know: What happened in the dugout? Was this guy complaining about the person he threw at? Did he talk to anyone else? What was he thinking? How does he react? All those things you'd want to know.And then you'd make a decision as to whether this person should be banned from baseball, whether they should be suspended, whether you should do nothing at all and just say, "Hey, the person threw a bad pitch. Get over it."In this case, it's a lot more serious than baseball. And the damage wasn't to one person. It wasn't just Valerie Wilson. It was done to all of us.And as you sit back, you want to learn: Why was this information going out? Why were people taking this information about Valerie Wilson and giving it to reporters? Why did Mr. Libby say what he did? Why did he tell Judith Miller three times? Why did he tell the press secretary on Monday? Why did he tell Mr. Cooper? And was this something where he intended to cause whatever damage was caused?Or did they intend to do something else and where are the shades of gray?And what we have when someone charges obstruction of justice, the umpire gets sand thrown in his eyes. He's trying to figure what happened and somebody blocked their view.”

Patrick Fitzgerald (1960) American lawyer

Fitzgerald News Conference from the Washington Post (October 28, 2005)

John Updike photo

“Government is either organized benevolence or organized madness; its peculiar magnitude permits no shading.”

John Updike (1932–2009) American novelist, poet, short story writer, art critic, and literary critic

Act I
Buchanan Dying (1974)

André Derain photo
Paul Gabriël photo

“Oh, for that matter you must look carefully how in every region of our country the map looks completely different. Not only the pastures have different shades, but the cows are different, yes even the people have, as it were, adopted the character of the soil [where] they were born and raised. That is so evident, that when I still stayed with Roelofs in Brussels [early 1860's] and we used to go to Holland to make our studies in the beautiful part of the season, coming home Roelofs didn't have to tell me where he had been. I recognized it in his work and one by one I called him the spots of our homeland [The Netherlands], where he had made sketches of the countryside and its residents during his study trip.”

Paul Gabriël (1828–1903) painter (1828-1903)

translation from the Dutch original: Fons Heijnsbroek
version in original Dutch / citaat van Paul Gabriël, in Nederlands: O, wat dat betreft, dan moet ge maar eens goed opletten, hoe in ieder gewest van ons land het plattegrond er geheel anders uitziet; niet alleen het weiland heeft een andere tint, maar de koeien zijn anders, ja de menschen hebben als 't ware het karakter aangenomen van den grond zij zijn geboren en getogen. Dat is zoo sterk, dat toen ik met Roelofs nog in Brussel woonde [vroege 1860's] en wij in 't mooie gedeelte van het seizoen naar Holland plachten te gaan om studies te maken, Roelofs wanneer hij thuis kwam, mij niet behoefde te zeggen waar hij geweest was. Ik zag het aan zijn werk en één voor één noemde ik hem de plekjes van ons vaderland, waar hij op studietocht van het land en de bewoners schetsen had gemaakt.
Quote of Gabriël, in a talk to W. C. Nakken, c. 1880; published in Elsevier's geïllustreerd maandschrift: verzameling van Nederlandsche letterkundige kunstwerken geïllustreerd door Nederlandsche kunstenaars, W. C. Nakken, June/July 1898; taken from the excerpt https://rkd.nl/explore/excerpts/365 in the Collection RKD Letters, Manuscripts and small Archives], The Hague
1880's + 1890's

David Hume photo

“For my part, when I enter most intimately into what I call myself, I always stumble on some particular perception or other, of heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, pain or pleasure. I never can catch myself at any time without a perception, and never can observe any thing but the perception. When my perceptions are remov’d for any time, as by sound sleep; so long am I insensible of myself, and may truly be said not to exist. And were all my perceptions remov’d by death, and cou’d I neither think, nor feel, nor see, nor love, nor hate after the dissolution of my body, I shou’d be entirely annihilated, nor do I conceive what is farther requisite to make me a perfect non-entity. If any one upon serious and unprejudic’d reflexion, thinks he has a different notion of himself, I must confess I can reason no longer with him. All I can allow him is, that he may be in the right as well as I, and that we are essentially different in this particular. He may, perhaps, perceive something simple and continu’d, which he calls himself; tho’ I am certain there is no such principle in me… But setting aside some metaphysicians of this kind, I may venture to affirm of the rest of mankind, that they are nothing but a bundle or collection of different perceptions, which succeed each other with an inconceivable rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux and movement.”

Part 4, Section 6
A Treatise of Human Nature (1739-40), Book 1: Of the understanding

Gerald Durrell photo
Adele (singer) photo
Oliver Goldsmith photo
Alfred Horsley Hinton photo
Pete Doherty photo
Gwendolyn Brooks photo
John Constable photo
John Milton photo

“Alas! what boots it with incessant care
To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade,
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?
Were it not better done as others use,
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair?
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
(That last infirmity of noble mind)
To scorn delights, and live laborious days;
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorrèd shears,
And slits the thin-spun life.”

Source: Lycidas (1637), Line 64; comparable to: "Erant quibus appetentior famæ videretur, quando etiam sapientibus cupido gloriae novissima exuitur" (Translated: "Some might consider him as too fond of fame, for the desire of glory clings even to the best of men longer than any other passion"), Tacitus, Historiae, iv. 6; said of Helvidius Priscus.

Matthew Arnold photo

“Still nursing the unconquerable hope,
Still clutching the inviolable shade,
With a free, onward impulse brushing through,
By night, the silver’d branches of the glade.”

Matthew Arnold (1822–1888) English poet and cultural critic who worked as an inspector of schools

St. 22
The Scholar Gypsy (1853)

George William Russell photo
Letitia Elizabeth Landon photo
Percy Bysshe Shelley photo
David Ben-Gurion photo

“Yet for many of us, anti-Semitic feeling had little to do with our dedication [to Zionism]. I personally never suffered anti-Semitic persecution. Plonsk was remarkably free of it, or at least the Jews felt well protected in the cocoon of their community life. Nevertheless, and I think this very significant, it was Plonsk that sent the highest proportion of Jews to Eretz Israel from any town in Poland of comparable size. We emigrated not for negative reasons of escape but for the positive purpose of rebuilding a homeland, a place where we wouldn't be perpetual strangers and that through our toil would become irrevocably our own. Life in Plonsk was peaceful enough. There were three main communities: Russians, Jews and Poles. Each lived apart from the others. The Russians as the occupiers kept a firm hand on the civil administration. There were no Polish or Jewish officials. Officials or the police almost never interfered in dealings between Jewish and Polish communities. They disliked both equally and took an aloof attitude to the town's day-to-day life. The number of Jews and Poles in the city were roughly equal, about five thousand each. The Jews, however, formed a compact, centralized group occupying the innermost districts whilst the Poles were more scattered, living in outlying areas and shading off into the peasantry. Consequently, when a gang of Jewish boys met a Polish gang the latter would almost inevitably represent a single suburb and thus be poorer in fighting potential than the Jews who even if their numbers were initially fewer could quickly call on reinforcements from the entire quarter. Far from being afraid of them, they were rather afraid of us. In general, however, relations were amicable, though distant.”

David Ben-Gurion (1886–1973) Israeli politician, Zionist leader, prime minister of Israel

Memoirs : David Ben-Gurion (1970), p. 36

Billy Joel photo
Gerrit Benner photo

“It's all about the atmosphere of nature, for sure, but I want the painting to arouse clarity, cheerfulness. When it is finished, then I have to live with it, that's why it must become a pleasant thing. Sun. Clarity. Never white-black, because there are so many shades in between! (translation from Dutch: Fons Heijnsbroek, 2018)”

Gerrit Benner (1897–1981) Dutch painter

version in original Dutch (citaat van Gerrit Benner, in het Nederlands:) Het gaat om de sfeer van de natuur, zeker, maar ik wil dat het schilderij klaarte, vrolijkheid opwekt. Als zo'n ding af is, dan moet ik ermee leven, daarom moet het prettig zijn. Zon. Klaarte. Nooit wit-zwart, want daar zijn zoveel tinten tussen!
quoted by Hans Redeker (before 1967), in Gerrit Benner; Meulenhoff, Amsterdam, 1967; as cited by Susan van den Berg in 'Benner en Bregman', website 'de Moanne' http://www.demoanne.nl/benner-en-bregman/, 1 Sept. 2008, note xx
1950 - 1980

Thomas Gray photo

“Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!
Ah, fields beloved in vain!
Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain!
I feel the gales that from ye blow
A momentary bliss bestow.”

Thomas Gray (1716–1771) English poet, historian

St. 2
Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College http://www.thomasgray.org/cgi-bin/display.cgi?text=odec (written 1742–1750)

Thomas Jackson photo

“Let us cross over the river, and rest under the shade of the trees.”

Thomas Jackson (1824–1863) Confederate general

Last words (May 10, 1863); as quoted in "Stonewall Jackson's Last Days" by Joe D. Haines, Jr. in America's Civil War

Dashiell Hammett photo
Thomas Dunn English photo

“That was a day of delight and wonder.
While lying the shade of the maple trees under—
He felt the soft breeze at its frolicksome play;
He smelled the sweet odor of newly mown hay.”

Thomas Dunn English (1819–1902) American state and federal politician

Under the Trees, reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 494.

Muhammad of Ghor photo
Letitia Elizabeth Landon photo
John Milton photo
Thomas Brooks photo
Richard Rodríguez photo
Renée Vivien photo

“Under the sun the summer grasses fade.
The rose, expiring after the harsh ravage
Of the heat, languishes toward the shade.
Sleep drips from the foliage.”

Renée Vivien (1877–1909) British poet who wrote in the French language

L’herbe de l’été pâlit sous le soleil.
La rose, expirant sous les âpres ravages
Des chaleurs, languit vers l’ombre, et le sommeil
Coule des feuillages.
La fraîcheur se glisse http://www.reneevivien.com/sapho.html#fraicheur (Coolness glides...), trans. Margaret Porter (1977)
Sapho http://www.reneevivien.com/sapho.html (1903)

Oliver Goldsmith photo
Douglas Adams photo
Alexander Pope photo
Neil Harbisson photo

“There are no white skins, and there are no black skins. Humans skins are of different shades of orange.”

Neil Harbisson (1984) Catalan-Irish musician, artist and activist

As quoted in El Punt (28 January 2012). "La teva cara em sona" http://www.elpuntavui.cat/noticia/article/5-cultura/19-cultura/500466-la-teva-cara-em-sona.html

Gerhard Richter photo
Thomas Chatterton photo
Statius photo

“So does he strive to rescue your shade from the pyre and wages a mighty contest with Death, wearying the efforts of artists and seeking to love you in every material. But beauty created by toil of cunning hand is mortal.”
Sic auferre rogis umbram conatur et ingens certamen cum Morte gerit, curasque fatigat artificum inque omni te quaerit amare metallo. Sed mortalis honos, agilis quem dextra laborat.

i, line 7
Silvae, Book V

Robert Southey photo
Charles Tart photo
Casey Stengel photo
Samuel Beckett photo
Saima Harmaja photo
Léon Walras photo
Ian McEwan photo

“Nearby, where the main road forked, stood an iron cross on a stone base. As the English couple watched, a mason was cutting in half a dozen fresh names. On the far side of the street, in the deep shadow of a doorway, a youngish woman in black was also watching. She was so pale they assumed at first she had some sort of wasting disease. She remained perfectly still, with one hand holding an edge of her headscarf so that it obscured her mouth. The mason seemed embarrassed and kept his back to her while he worked. After a quarter of an hour an old man in blue workman's clothes came shuffling along in carpet slippers and took her hand without a word and led her away. When the propriétaire came out he nodded at the other side of the street, at the empty space and murmured, 'Trois. Mari et deux frères,' as he set down their salads.This sombre incident remained with them as they struggled up the hill in the heat, heavy with lunch, towards the Bergerie de Tédenat. They stopped half way up in the shade of a stand of pines before a long stretch of open ground. Bernard was to remember this moment for the rest of his life. As they drank from their water bottles he was struck by the recently concluded war not as a historical, geopolitical fact but as a multiplicity, a near-infinity of private sorrows, as a boundless grief minutely subdivided without diminishment among individuals who covered the continent like dust, like spores whose separate identities would remain unknown, and whose totality showed more sadness than anyone could ever begin to comprehend; a weight borne in silence by hundreds of thousands, millions, like the woman in black for a husband and two brothers, each grief a particular, intricate, keening love story that might have been otherwise. It seemed as though he had never thought about the war before, not about its cost. He had been so busy with the details of his work, of doing it well, and his widest view had been of war aims, of winning, of statistical deaths, statistical destruction, and of post-war reconstruction. For the first time he sensed the scale of the catastrophe in terms of feeling; all those unique and solitary deaths, all that consequent sorrow, unique and solitary too, which had no place in conferences, headlines, history, and which had quietly retired to houses, kitchens, unshared beds, and anguished memories. This came upon Bernard by a pine tree in the Languedoc in 1946 not as an observation he could share with June but as a deep apprehension, a recognition of a truth that dismayed him into silence and, later, a question: what possible good could come of a Europe covered in this dust, these spores, when forgetting would be inhuman and dangerous, and remembering a constant torture?”

Page 164-165.
Black Dogs (1992)

James Macpherson photo

“Sorrow, like a cloud on the sun, shades the soul of Clessammor.”

James Macpherson (1736–1796) Scottish writer, poet, translator, and politician

"Carthon"
The Poems of Ossian

Edward Carpenter photo

“Plato in his allegory of the soul—in the Phaedrus—though he apparently divides the passions which draw the human chariot into two classes, the heavenward and the earthward—figured by the white horse and the black horse respectively—does not recommend that the black horse should be destroyed or dismissed, but only that he (as well as the white horse) should be kept under due control by the charioteer. By which he seems to intend that there is a power in man which stands above and behind the passions, and under whose control alone the human being can safely move. In fact if the fiercer and so-called more earthly passions were removed, half the driving force would be gone from the chariot of the human soul. Hatred may be devilish at times—but after all the true value of it depends on what you hate, on the use to which the passion is put. Anger, though inhuman at one time is magnificent and divine at another. Obstinacy may be out of place in a drawing-room, but it is the latest virtue on a battlefield when an important position has to be held against the full brunt of the enemy. And Lust, though maniacal and monstrous in its aberrations, cannot in the last resort be separated from its divine companion, Love. To let the more amiable passions have entire sway notoriously does not do: to turn your cheek, too literally, to the smiter, is (pace Tolstoy) only to encourage smiting; and when society becomes so altruistic that everybody runs to fetch the coal-scuttle we feel sure that something has gone wrong. The white-washed heroes of our biographies with their many virtues and no faults do not please us. We have an impression that the man without faults is, to say the least, a vague, uninteresting being—a picture without light and shade—and the conventional semi-pious classification of character into good and bad qualities (as if the good might be kept and the bad thrown away) seems both inadequate and false.”

Edward Carpenter (1844–1929) British poet and academic

Defence of Criminals: A Criticism of Morality (1889)

Sania Mirza photo

“I'm partial to stilettos. Stilettos and long, flowing dresses are my new favourites. I like my dresses in lively shades these days, a teal or bright mix of orange and red.”

Sania Mirza (1986) Indian tennis player

Source: Prajwal Hegde "I am enjoying my partnership with Cara Black: Sania Mirza"

Eino Leino photo
Charles Grandison Finney photo
James Thomson (poet) photo

“Shade, unperceiv'd, so softening into shade.”

James Thomson (poet) (1700–1748) Scottish writer (1700-1748)

Source: Hymn (1730), line 25.

Letitia Elizabeth Landon photo
Mark Akenside photo
Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot photo
Max Beckmann photo
Claude McKay photo
Francis Marion Crawford photo
Charlie Huston photo
Ilia Chavchavadze photo
Edmund White photo
Percy Bysshe Shelley photo
Wilfred Thesiger photo
Shraddha Kapoor photo
Thomas Moore photo

“Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid.”

Thomas Moore (1779–1852) Irish poet, singer and songwriter

Oh Breathe Not His Name, st. 1.
Irish Melodies http://www.musicanet.org/robokopp/moore.html (1807–1834)

Christopher Pitt photo
Bawa Muhaiyaddeen photo
Muhammad photo
Robert Hall photo
John Suckling photo
Mark Tobey photo
Joel Barlow photo

“Of these no more. From Orders, Slaves and Kings,
To thee, O Man, my heart rebounding springs.
Behold th' ascending bliss that waits your call,
Heav'n's own bequest, the heritage of all.
Awake to wisdom, seize the proffer'd prize;
From shade to light, from grief to glory rise.”

Joel Barlow (1754–1812) American diplomat

The Conspiracy of Kings (1792)
Context: Of these no more. From Orders, Slaves and Kings,
To thee, O Man, my heart rebounding springs.
Behold th' ascending bliss that waits your call,
Heav'n's own bequest, the heritage of all.
Awake to wisdom, seize the proffer'd prize;
From shade to light, from grief to glory rise.
Freedom at last, with Reason in her train,
Extends o'er earth her everlasting reign…

Eric R. Kandel photo
Virgil photo

“Obscure they went through dreary shades, that led
Along the waste dominions of the dead.”

Ibant obscuri sola sub nocte per umbram, Perque domos Ditis vacuas et inania regna.

Source: Aeneid (29–19 BC), Book VI, Lines 268–269 (tr. John Dryden)

Anatole France photo

“Already his vast shadow shed upon the unhappy planet a shade soft as a night of love.”

Source: The Revolt of the Angels (1914), Ch. XXXV
Context: Satan found pleasure in praise and in the exercise of his grace; he loved to hear his wisdom and his power belauded. He listened with joy to the canticles of the cherubim who celebrated his good deeds, and he took no pleasure in listening to Nectaire's flute, because it celebrated nature's self, yielded to the insect and to the blade of grass their share of power and love, and counselled happiness and freedom. Satan, whose flesh had crept, in days gone by, at the idea that suffering prevailed in the world, now felt himself inaccessible to pity. He regarded suffering and death as the happy results of omnipotence and sovereign kindness. And the savour of the blood of victims rose upward towards him like sweet incense. He fell to condemning intelligence and to hating curiosity. He himself refused to learn anything more, for fear that in acquiring fresh knowledge he might let it be seen that he had not known everything at the very outset. He took pleasure in mystery, and believing that he would seem less great by being understood, he affected to be unintelligible. Dense fumes of Theology filled his brain. One day, following the example of his predecessor, he conceived the notion of proclaiming himself one god in three persons. Seeing Arcade smile as this proclamation was made, he drove him from his presence. Istar and Zita had long since returned to earth. Thus centuries passed like seconds. Now, one day, from the altitude of his throne, he plunged his gaze into the depths of the pit and saw Ialdabaoth in the Gehenna where he himself had long lain enchained. Amid the ever lasting gloom Ialdabaoth still retained his lofty mien. Blackened and shattered, terrible and sublime, he glanced upwards at the palace of the King of Heaven with a look of proud disdain, then turned away his head. And the new god, as he looked upon his foe, beheld the light of intelligence and love pass across his sorrow-stricken countenance. And lo! Ialdabaoth was now contemplating the Earth and, seeing it sunk in wickedness and suffering, he began to foster thoughts of kindliness in his heart. On a sudden he rose up, and beating the ether with his mighty arms, as though with oars, he hastened thither to instruct and to console mankind. Already his vast shadow shed upon the unhappy planet a shade soft as a night of love.
And Satan awoke bathed in an icy sweat.
Nectaire, Istar, Arcade, and Zita were standing round him. The finches were singing.
"Comrades," said the great archangel, "no — we will not conquer the heavens. Enough to have the power. War engenders war, and victory defeat.
"God, conquered, will become Satan; Satan, conquering, will become God. May the fates spare me this terrible lot; I love the Hell which formed my genius. I love the Earth where I have done some good, if it be possible to do any good in this fearful world where beings live but by rapine.
Now, thanks to us, the god of old is dispossessed of his terrestrial empire, and every thinking being on this globe disdains him or knows him not. But what matter that men should be no longer submissive to Ialdabaoth if the spirit of Ialdabaoth is still in them; if they, like him, are jealous, violent, quarrelsome, and greedy, and the foes of the arts and of beauty? What matter that they have rejected the ferocious Demiurge, if they do not hearken to the friendly demons who teach all truths; to Dionysus, Apollo, and the Muses? As to ourselves, celestial spirits, sublime demons, we have destroyed Ialdabaoth, our Tyrant, if in ourselves we have destroyed Ignorance and Fear."
And Satan, turning to the gardener, said:
"Nectaire, you fought with me before the birth of the world. We were conquered because we failed to understand that Victory is a Spirit, and that it is in ourselves and in ourselves alone that we must attack and destroy Ialdabaoth."

Robert Frost photo

“They think too much of having shaded out
A few old pecker-fretted apple trees.”

Robert Frost (1874–1963) American poet

Directive (1947)
Context: p>As for the woods' excitement over you
That sends light rustle rushes to their leaves,
Charge that to upstart inexperience.Where were they all not twenty years ago?
They think too much of having shaded out
A few old pecker-fretted apple trees.</p

Robert Frost photo

“He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.”

Robert Frost (1874–1963) American poet

Mending Wall (1914)
Context: He moves in darkness as it seems to me,
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father’s saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, “Good fences make good neighbours.”

Augustus Toplady photo

“Sun of Righteousness, arise,
Triumph o'er the shades of night”

Augustus Toplady (1740–1778) British divine

"Sun of Righteousness, Arise", a morning hymn, reported in Dictionary of Burning Words of Brilliant Writers (1895) by Josiah Hotchkiss Gilbert, p. 77.
Context: Christ whose glory fills the skies,
Christ, the true, the only light,
Sun of Righteousness, arise,
Triumph o'er the shades of night;
Day-spring from on high, be near,
Day-star in my heart appear.

Ann Eliza Bleecker photo
Virgil photo

“There are twin Gates of Sleep.
One, they say, is called the Gate of Horn
and it offers easy passage to all true shades.
The other glistens with ivory, radiant, flawless,
but through it the dead send false dreams up toward the sky.”

Sunt geminae Somni portae, quarum altera fertur Cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris, Altera candenti perfecta nitens elephanto, Sed falsa ad caelum mittunt insomnia Manes.

Source: Aeneid (29–19 BC), Book VI, Lines 893–896 (tr. Fagles); the gates of horn and ivory.

Matthew Arnold photo

“Yes, thou art gone! and round me too the night
In ever-nearing circle weaves her shade.”

St. 14
Thyrsis (1866)
Context: Yes, thou art gone! and round me too the night
In ever-nearing circle weaves her shade.
I see her veil draw soft across the day,
I feel her slowly chilling breath invade
The cheek grown thin, the brown hair sprent with grey;
I feel her finger light
Laid pausefully upon life’s headlong train; —
The foot less prompt to meet the morning dew,
The heart less bounding at emotion new,
And hope, once crush’d, less quick to spring again.

Algernon Charles Swinburne photo

“God by God flits past in thunder, till His glories turn to shades;
God to God bears wondering witness how His gospel flames and fades.”

Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837–1909) English poet, playwright, novelist, and critic

"The Altar of Righteousness" in Harper's Monthly (June 1904).
Context: God by God flits past in thunder, till His glories turn to shades;
God to God bears wondering witness how His gospel flames and fades.
More was each of these, yet they were, than man their servant seemed:
Dead are all of these, and man survives who made them while he dreamed.