Regret is a short, evocative and achingly beautiful word: an elegy to lost possibilities even in its brief annunciation.
Phrenology taught us that the mind thinks by means of the brain, is liable to become fatigued by too long attention, as the locomotive muscles are by too much walking; and I therefore proposed to them to take a brief rest.
There was a brief moment, after Haiti’s 2010 earthquake, when even Bill Clinton recognized what had been done to Haiti in the name of ‘free trade’: the destruction of local markets and rice production.
From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever gods may be That no life lives for ever; That dead men rise up never; That even the weariest river Winds somewhere safe to sea.
I’m not the first person to have discovered evidence that consciousness exists beyond the body. Brief, wonderful glimpses of this realm are as old as human history.
But only a brief moment is granted to the brave one breath or two, whose wage is the long nights of the grave.
When contrasted with the much longer time that life has been present, the course of Christianity thus far is but a brief moment.
They who grasp the world, The Kingdom, and the power, and the glory, Must pay with deepest misery of spirit, Atoning unto God for a brief brightness.
If you be pungent, be brief; for it is with words as with sunbeams – the more they are condensed the deeper they burn.
It is when I struggle to be brief that I become obscure.