Thursday, November 15, 2012
Let it bleed.
He that lacks time to mourn, lacks time to mend.
Eternity mourns that. 'Tis an ill cure
For life's worst ills, to have no time to feel them.
Where sorrow's held intrusive and turned out,
There wisdom will not enter, nor true power,
Nor aught that dignifies humanity.
From a play by Sir Henry Taylor.
Source: Blue Peninsula by Madge McKeithen, p. 54