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Oscar Wilde

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Tread Lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.
--
Requiescat, st. 1 (1881).

 
Oscar Wilde

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In the bleak mid-winter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak mid-winter
Long ago.

 
Christina Rossetti
 

She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead;
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.

 
Alfred (Lord) Tennyson
 

Let us say in passing that since (philosophical) remedies are often worse than the malady, our age, in order to be cured of the Plato sickness, has swallowed such doses of a relativist, vaguely skeptical, lightly spiritualist and insipidly moralist medicine, that it is in the process of gently dying, in the small bed of its supposed democratic comfort.

 
Alain Badiou
 

Journalism may not dare too much. It can be gently humorous and ironic, very lightly touched by idiosyncrasy, but it must not repel readers by digging too deeply. This is especially true of its approach to language: the conventions are not questioned. The questioning of linguistic conventions is one of the main duties of what we call literature.

 
Anthony Burgess
 

Speak gently to the erring:
For is it not enough
That innocence and peace have gone,
Without thy censure rough?

 
Julia Abigail Fletcher Carney
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