Euclid

Proof. Suppose that p1=2 < p2 = 3 < ... < pr are all of the primes. Let P = p1p2...pr+1 and let p be a prime dividing P; then p can not be any of p1, p2, ..., pr, otherwise p would divide the difference P-p1p2...pr=1, which is impossible. So this prime p is still another prime, and p1, p2, ..., pr would not be all of the primes. (Ribenboim's statement of Euclid's proof)

Lewis Caroll

“I see nobody on the road,” said Alice.

“I only wish I had such eyes,” the King remarked in a fretful tone. “To be able to see Nobody! And at that distance, too! Why, it’s as much as I can do to see real people, by this light!”

Eugene Guillevic

Elegies

He probably held too tightly
(In the palm of his hand,
Looking out on the sea)

To the sand the wind
Was taking, grain by grain —

He who is held by the fear
Of becoming mist.

Il aura trop tenu
Dans le fond de sa paume
En face de la mer

Du sable que le vent
Y prenait grain par grain

Celui que tient la peur
De devenir nuage.

Jenny Joseph

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandles, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

William Butler Yeats

Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

George Macdonald

It has been well said that no man ever sank under the burden of the day. It is, when tomorrow’s burden is added to the burden of today, that the weight is more than a man can bear. Never load yourselves so, my friends. If you find yourselves so loaded, at least remember this: it is your own doing, not God’s. He begs you to leave the future to Him, and mind the present.