Quotes about Gold

Just as gold is burnt, cut and rubbed,
Examine my words carefully and
Do not accept them simply out of respect

If you don't trust gold, do you trust the logic of taking a pine tree, worth $4,000-$5,000, cutting it up, turning it into pulp, putting some ink on it and then calling it one billion dollars?

Literature, at its best, and despite the recent attempts of critics, can never be murdered and dissected, as it’s an immortal yet organic thing, drawing on the richness and complexity of Experience yet somehow managing to transcend its mundane origins like an alchemist transmuting base metals.

All that glisters is not gold.  Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

For men in a state of freedom had thatch for their shelter, while slavery dwells beneath marble and gold.

This discipline and rough treatment are a furnace to extract the silver from the dross. This testing purifies the gold by boiling the scum away.

Reshape yourself through the power of your will...

Those who have conquered themselves...live in peace, alike in cold and heat, pleasure and pain, praise and blame...To such people a clod of dirt, a stone, and gold are the same...Because they are impartial, they rise to great heights.

Only by much searching and mining are gold and diamonds obtained, and man can find every truth connected with his being if he will dig deep into the mine of his soul.

Turning, for them who pass, the common dust Of servile opportunity to gold.

FIRST MURDERER: WHERE IS THY CONSCIENCE NOW? SECOND MURDERER: In the Duke of Gloucester's purse FIRST MURDERER: So when he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out. SECOND MURDERER: Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it. FIRST MURDERER: How if it come to thee again? SECOND MURDERER: I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it checks him; he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him: it is a blushing shamefast spirit that multiplies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold, that I found: it beggars any man that keeps it: it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well, endeavours to trust to himself and to live without it. FIRST MURDERER: 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke.

Through tattered clothes small vices do appear; Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice breaks; Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica: look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on.

Gold is worse poison to a man's soul, doing more murders in this loathsome world, than any mortal drug.

Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, To guard a title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

Besides the practical knowledge which defeat offers, there are important personality profits to be taken. Defeat strips away false values and makes you realize what you really want. It stops you from chasing butterflies and puts you to work digging gold.

Love is Enough Love is enough: though the world be a-waning, And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining, Though the skies be too dark for dim eyes to discover The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder, Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder, And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over, Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter: The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.

Than all Bocara's vaunted gold, Than all the gems of Samarcand.

Bright portals of the sky, Emboss'd with sparkling stars, Doors of eternity, With diamantine bars, Your arras rich uphold, Loose all your bolts and springs, Ope wide your leaves of gold, That in your roofs may come the King of Kings. O well-spring of this All! Thy Father's image vive; Word, that from nought did call What is, doth reason, live; The soul's eternal food, Earth's joy, delight of heaven; All truth, love, beauty, good: To thee, to thee be praises ever given! O glory of the heaven! O sole delight of earth! To thee all power be given, God's uncreated birth! Of mankind lover true, Indearer of his wrong, Who doth the world renew, Still be thou our salvation and our song!

The Mask "Put off that mask of burning gold With emerald eyes." "O no, my dear, you make so bold To find if hearts be wild and wise, And yet not cold." "I would but find what's there to find, Love or deceit." "It was the mask engaged your mind, And after set your heart to beat, Not what's behind." "But lest you are my enemy, I must enquire." "O no, my dear, let all that be, What matter, so there is but fire In you, in me?"

I see my life go drifting like a river From change to change; I have been many things -  A green drop in the surge, a gleam of light Upon a sword, a fir tree on a hill,  An old slave grinding at a heavy quern, A king sitting upon a chair of gold -  And all these things were wonderful and great; But now I have grown nothing, knowing all. Ah! Druid, Druid, how great webs of sorrow Lay hidden in that small slate-coloured thing!

Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enameling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

I have read somewhere that in the Emperor's palace at Byzantium was a tree made of gold and silver, and artificial birds that sang.

Winter Song The browns, the olives, and the yellows died, And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide, And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed, Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed. From off your face, into the winds of winter, The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing; But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter, When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing, And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.

Sonnet: To a Child Sweet is your antique body, not yet young; Beauty withheld from youth that looks for youth; Fair only for your father. Dear among Masters in art. To all men else uncouth; Save me, who know your smile comes very old, Learnt of the happy dead that laughed with gods; For earlier suns than ours have lent you gold; Sly fauns and trees have given you jigs and nods. But soon your heart, hot-beating like a bird's, Shall slow down. Youth shall lop your hair; And you must learn wry meanings in our words. Your smile shall dull, because too keen aware; And when for hopes your hand shall be uncurled, Your eyes shall close, being open to the world.

The cursed hunger for gold. -Auri sacra fames

Come said the wind to the leaves one day, Come o're the meadows and we will play. Put on your dresses scarlet and gold, For summer is gone and the days grow cold.

Three things have value and worth supreme; A body that is strong, sound and clean; A brain that is clear and holds truth secure; And a heart that is pure, as gold is pure!

Not 'til the loom is silent And the shuttles cease to fly Will God unfold the pattern, And explain the reason why. The dark threads were as needful In the skillful weaver's hand, As the threads of Gold and Silver In the pattern that He planned.

Get at the root of things: The gold mines of the scriptures are not the topsoil; you must open a shaft. The precious diamonds of experience are not picked up in the roadway; their secret places are far down. Get down into the vitality, the solidity, the veracity, the divinity of the Word of God, and seek to possess with it the inward workings of the Spirit.