Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, / Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, / Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, / The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Though I be rude in speech.
Religion, when looked upon not as supernatural, but as thoroughly natural to man, has assumed a new meaning and a higher dignity when studied as an integral part of that historical evolution which has made man what he is, and what from the very first he was meant to be. Is it no comfort to know that at no time and in no part of the world, has God left Himself without witness, that the hand of God was nowhere beyond the reach of the outstretched hands of babes and sucklings; nay, that it was from those rude utterances out of the mouth of babes and sucklings, that is, of savages and barbarians, that has been perfected in time the true praise of God? To have looked for growth and evolution in history as well as in nature is no blame, and has proved no loss to the present or to the last century; and if the veil has as yet been but little withdrawn from the Holy of Holies, those who come after us will have learnt at least this one lesson, that this lifting of the veil which was supposed to be the privilege of priests, is no longer considered as a sacrilege, if attempted by any honest seekers after truth.
At ingenium ingens / Inculto latet hoc sub corpore=--Yet under this rude exterior lies concealed a mighty genius.
May no rude hand deface it, And its forlorn _hic jacet!_
Rudis indigestaque moles=--A rude and unarranged mass.
A good inclination is only the first rude draught of virtue, but the finishing strokes are from the will.
Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor. He talks as the man of his age talks, that is, with rude wit, a lively sense of the grotesque, a disgust for sham, and a contempt for pettiness.
By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattl'd farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world.
Not all the water in the rough rude sea / Can wash the balm from an anointed king; / The breath of worldly men cannot depose / The deputy elected by the Lord.
Ph?nices primi, fam? si creditur, ausi / Mansuram rudibus vocem signare figuris=--The Ph?nicians, if rumour may be trusted, were the first who dared to write down the fleeting word in rude letters.
Cease, rude Boreas, blustering railer! List, ye landsmen all, to me; Messmates, hear a brother sailor Sing the dangers of the sea.
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, / That the rude sea grew civil at her song, / And certain stars shot madly from their spheres / To hear the sea-maid's music.
By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled; Here once the embattled farmers stood; And fired the shot heard round the world.
A rude ane rude anier=--A stubborn driver to a stubborn ass.
Verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound; She feels no biting pang the while she sings; Nor, as she turns the giddy wheel around, Revolves the sad vicissitudes of things.[393-3]
In the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon.
And raw in fields the rude militia swarms, Mouths without hands; maintain'd at vast expense, In peace a charge, in war a weak defence; Stout once a month they march, a blustering band, And ever but in times of need at hand.
Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm off from an anointed king.
The rude sea grew civil at her song, And certain stars shot madly from their spheres To hear the sea-maid's music.
Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
~Despotism.~--It is difficult for power to avoid despotism. The possessors of rude health; the individualities cut out by a few strokes, solid for the very reason that they are all of a piece; the complete characters whose fibres have never been strained by a doubt; the minds that no questions disturb and no aspirations put out of breath,--these, the strong, are also the tyrants.--_Countess de Gasparin._
Society is infected with rude, cynical, restless, and frivolous persons, who prey upon the rest, and whom no public opinion concentrated into good manners, forms accepted by the sense of all, can reach.
Each man has his fortune in his own hands, as the artist has a piece of rude matter, which he is to fashion into a certain shape.
At vindictum bonum vita jucundius ipsa. Nempe hoc indocti=--But revenge is a blessing sweeter than life itself; so rude men feel.
O, now, for ever Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Farewell the plumed troop and the big wars That make ambition virtue! O, farewell! Farewell the neighing steed and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner, and all quality, Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war! And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell! Othello's occupation 's gone!
Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors, My very noble and approv'd good masters, That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, It is most true; true, I have married her: The very head and front of my offending Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech, And little bless'd with the soft phrase of peace: For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith, Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used Their dearest action in the tented field, And little of this great world can I speak, More than pertains to feats of broil and battle, And therefore little shall I grace my cause In speaking for myself. Yet, by your gracious patience, I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver Of my whole course of love.
The rude man requires only to see something going on. The man of more refinement must be made to feel. The man of complete refinement must be made to reflect.
"These Macedonians," said he, "are a rude and clownish people, that call a spade a spade."
Truth will bear / Neither rude handling, nor unfair / Evasion of its wards, and mocks / Whoever would falsely enter there.
Cradle of the rude imperious surge.--_Shakespeare._
Auch fur die rauhe Brust giebt's Augenblicke / Wo dunkle Machte Melodien wecken=--Even the rude breast has moments in which dark powers awaken melodies.
Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,/ The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The Iliad and the Shakespeare are tame to him who hears the rude but homely incidents of the road from every traveller.
Verwelkt, entblattert, zertreten sogar / Von rohen Schicksalsfussen--/ Mein Freund, das ist auf Erden das Los / Von allem Schonen und Sussen=--To wither away, be disleaved, be trodden to dust even by the rude feet of Fate, that, friend, is the lot on earth of everything that is beautiful and sweet.
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.
Courage, so far as it is a sign of race, is peculiarly the mark of a gentleman or a lady; but it becomes vulgar if rude or insensitive.
Venerable to me is the hard hand--crooked, coarse--wherein, notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the sceptre of this planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all weather-tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence; for it is the face of a man living manlike.
Vain for the rude craftsman to attempt the beautiful; only one diamond can polish another.
Masses are rude, lame, unmade, pernicious in their demands and influence, and need not to be flattered, but to be schooled.
A rude and boisterous captain of the sea.
Ego nec studium sine divite vena, / Nec rude quid prosit video ingenium=--I see not what good can come from study without a rich vein of genius, or from genius untrained by art.
No, I'm just a very naughty boy. I do all sorts of bad things. I kick kittens. I make rude gestures at nuns.
Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. The detective must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be, to use a rather weathered phrase, a man of honor. He talks as the man of his age talks, that is, with rude wit, a lively sense of the grotesque, a disgust for sham, and a contempt for pettiness.
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forc'd fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first; Be not discouraged — keep on — there are divine things, well envelop'd; I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.
A programmer from a very large computer company went to a software conference and then returned to report to his manager, saying: "What sort of programmers work for other companies? They behaved badly and were unconcerned with appearances. Their hair was long and unkempt and their clothes were wrinkled and old. They crashed out hospitality suites and they made rude noises during my presentation." The manager said: "I should have never sent you to the conference. Those programmers live beyond the physical world. They consider life absurd, an accidental coincidence. They come and go without knowing limitations. Without a care, they live only for their programs. Why should they bother with social conventions?" "They are alive within the Tao." -- Geoffrey James, "The Tao of Programming"
Once there was a little nerd who loved to read your mail, And then yank back the i-access times to get hackers off his tail, And once as he finished reading from the secretary's spool, He wrote a rude rejection to her boyfriend (how uncool!) And this as delivermail did work and he ran his backfstat, He heard an awful crackling like rat fritters in hot fat, And hard errors brought the system down 'fore he could even shout! And the bio bug'll bring yours down too, ef you don't watch out! And once they was a little flake who'd prowl through the uulog, And when he went to his blit that night to play at being god, The ops all heard him holler, and they to the console dashed, But when they did a ps -ut they found the system crashed! Oh, the wizards adb'd the dumps and did the system trace, And worked on the file system 'til the disk head was hot paste, But all they ever found was this: "panic: never doubt", And the bio bug'll crash your box too, ef you don't watch out! When the day is done and the moon comes out, And you hear the printer whining and the rk's seems to count, When the other desks are empty and their terminals glassy grey, And the load is only 1.6 and you wonder if it'll stay, You must mind the file protections and not snoop around, Or the bio bug'll getcha and bring the system down!
FORTUNE'S GUIDE TO DEALING WITH REAL-LIFE SCIENCE FICTION: #6 What to do... if a starship, equipped with an FTL hyperdrive lands in your backyard? First of all, do not run after your camera. You will not have any film, and, given the state of computer animation, noone will believe you anyway. Be polite. Remember, if they have an FTL hyperdrive, they can probably vaporize you, should they find you to be rude. Direct them to the White House lawn, which is where they probably wanted to land, anyway. A good road map should help. if you wake up in the middle of the night, and discover that your closet contains an alternate dimension? Don't walk in. You almost certainly will not be able to get back, and alternate dimensions are almost never any fun. Remain calm and go back to bed. Close the door first, so that the cat does not wander off. Check your closet in the morning. If it still contains an alternate dimension, nail it shut.
Slaves are generally expected to sing as well as to work ... I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meanings of those rude, and apparently incoherent songs. I was myself within the circle, so that I neither saw nor heard as those without might see and hear. They told a tale which was then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension: they were tones, loud, long and deep, breathing the prayer and complaint of souls boiling over with the bitterest anguish. Every tone was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for deliverance from chains. -- Frederick Douglass
Life is a series of rude awakenings. -- R. V. Winkle
Our oarsmen were so fresh, by dint of having occasionally let her drive with the tide for a minute or two, that a quarter of an hour's rest proved full as much as they wanted. We got ashore among some slippery stones while we ate and drank what we had with us, and looked about. It was like my own marsh country, flat and monotonous, and with a dim horizon; while the winding river turned and turned, and the great floating buoys upon it turned and turned, and everything else seemed stranded and still. For now the last of the fleet of ships was round the last low point we had headed; and the last green barge, straw-laden, with a brown sail, had followed; and some ballast-lighters, shaped like a child's first rude imitation of a boat, lay low in the mud; and a little squat shoal-lighthouse on open piles stood crippled in the mud on stilts and crutches; and slimy stakes stuck out of the mud, and slimy stones stuck out of the mud, and red landmarks and tidemarks stuck out of the mud, and an old landing-stage and an old roofless building slipped into the mud, and all about us was stagnation and mud.
"Let him alone, Alyosha, my cherub; you see what he is, he is not a person for you to speak to. Mihail Osipovitch," she turned to Rakitin, "I meant to beg your pardon for being rude to you, but now I don't want to. Alyosha, come to me, sit down here." She beckoned to him with a happy smile. "That's right, sit here. Tell me," she shook him by the hand and peeped into his face, smiling, "tell me, do I love that man or not? the man who wronged me, do I love him or not? Before you came, I lay here in the dark, asking my heart whether I loved him. Decide for me, Alyosha, the time has come, it shall be as you say. Am I to forgive him or not?"
"'Ah!' said he, 'you must not think me rude if I passed you without a word, my dear young lady. I was preoccupied with business matters.'
The sobriquet of La Carconte had been bestowed on Madeleine Radelle from the fact that she had been born in a village, so called, situated between Salon and Lambesc; and as a custom existed among the inhabitants of that part of France where Caderousse lived of styling every person by some particular and distinctive appellation, her husband had bestowed on her the name of La Carconte in place of her sweet and euphonious name of Madeleine, which, in all probability, his rude gutteral language would not have enabled him to pronounce. Still, let it not be supposed that amid this affected resignation to the will of Providence, the unfortunate inn-keeper did not writhe under the double misery of seeing the hateful canal carry off his customers and his profits, and the daily infliction of his peevish partner's murmurs and lamentations.
Lucien having left, Danglars took his place on the sofa, closed the open book, and placing himself in a dreadfully dictatorial attitude, he began playing with the dog; but the animal, not liking him as well as Debray, and attempting to bite him, Danglars seized him by the skin of his neck and threw him upon a couch on the other side of the room. The animal uttered a cry during the transit, but, arrived at its destination, it crouched behind the cushions, and stupefied at such unusual treatment remained silent and motionless. "Do you know, sir," asked the baroness, "that you are improving? Generally you are only rude, but to-night you are brutal."
"Alyosha, dear, you are cold and rude. Do you see? He has chosen me as his wife and is quite settled about it. He is sure I was in earnest. What a thing to say! Why, that's impertinence--that's what it is."
To whom Achilles, sighing deep, replied. Why tell thee woes to thee already known? At Thebes, Eëtion's city we arrived, Smote, sack'd it, and brought all the spoil away. Just distribution made among the Greeks, The son of Atreus for his lot received Blooming Chrysëis. Her, Apollo's priest Old Chryses followed to Achaia's camp, That he might loose his daughter. Ransom rich He brought, and in his hands the hallow'd wreath And golden sceptre of the Archer God Apollo, bore; to the whole Grecian host, But chiefly to the foremost in command He sued, the sons of Atreus; then, the rest All recommended reverence of the Seer, And prompt acceptance of his costly gifts. But Agamemnon might not so be pleased, Who gave him rude dismission; he in wrath Returning, prayed, whose prayer Apollo heard, For much he loved him. A pestiferous shaft He instant shot into the Grecian host, And heap'd the people died. His arrows swept The whole wide camp of Greece, 'till at the last A Seer, by Phoebus taught, explain'd the cause. I first advised propitiation. Rage Fired Agamemnon. Rising, he denounced Vengeance, and hath fulfilled it. She, in truth, Is gone to Chrysa, and with her we send Propitiation also to the King Shaft-arm'd Apollo. But my beauteous prize Brisëis, mine by the award of all, His heralds, at this moment, lead away. But thou, wherein thou canst, aid thy own son! Haste hence to Heaven, and if thy word or deed Hath ever gratified the heart of Jove, With earnest suit press him on my behalf. For I, not seldom, in my father's hall Have heard thee boasting, how when once the Gods, With Juno, Neptune, Pallas at their head, Conspired to bind the Thunderer, thou didst loose His bands, O Goddess! calling to his aid The Hundred-handed warrior, by the Gods Briareus, but by men, Ægeon named. For he in prowess and in might surpassed His father Neptune, who, enthroned sublime, Sits second only to Saturnian Jove, Elate with glory and joy. Him all the Gods Fearing from that bold enterprise abstained. Now, therefore, of these things reminding Jove, Embrace his knees; entreat him that he give The host of Troy his succor, and shut fast The routed Grecians, prisoners in the fleet, That all may find much solace in their King, And that the mighty sovereign o'er them all, Their Agamemnon, may himself be taught His rashness, who hath thus dishonor'd foul The life itself, and bulwark of his cause.
"Oh, but he was a regular good-for-nothing," said Tikhon. "The clothes on him--poor stuff! How could I bring him? And so rude, your honor! Why, he says: 'I'm a general's son myself, I won't go!' he says."
My friends! let none with contradiction thwart And rude reply words rational and just; Assault no more the stranger, nor of all The servants of renown'd Ulysses here Harm any. Come. Let the cup-bearer fill To all, that due libation made, to rest We may repair at home, leaving the Prince To accommodate beneath his father's roof The stranger, for he is the Prince's guest.
I reflected. Poverty looks grim to grown people; still more so to children: they have not much idea of industrious, working, respectable poverty; they think of the word only as connected with ragged clothes, scanty food, fireless grates, rude manners, and debasing vices: poverty for me was synonymous with degradation.
Those stormy blue eyes glowered at her, staring rudely at her smartly matching vest and tie and skimming all the way down to her tightly laced boots. “What kind of name is Liberty?” he asked. “It is not a proper name for a woman, it is a concept. A noun.” She didn’t quite know what to say. She had always been fond of her unconventional name. “It is a perfectly good name.” “I don’t like it.” His statement was blunt and completely unnecessary. “Apparently, they do not teach manners in Romania, but in Massachusetts we wait until formal introductions are complete before hurling insults and seizing houses.
"Satisfactory, indeed! Very satisfactory! Barbara Ivanovna told me today how our troops are distinguishing themselves. It certainly does them credit! And the people too are quite mutinous--they no longer obey, even my maid has taken to being rude. At this rate they will soon begin beating us. One can't walk in the streets. But, above all, the French will be here any day now, so what are we waiting for? I ask just one thing of you, cousin," she went on, "arrange for me to be taken to Petersburg. Whatever I may be, I can't live under Bonaparte's rule."
Amphimedon! by what disastrous chance, Coœvals as ye seem, and of an air Distinguish'd all, descend ye to the Deeps? For not the chosen youths of a whole town Should form a nobler band. Perish'd ye sunk Amid vast billows and rude tempests raised By Neptune's pow'r? or on dry land through force Of hostile multitudes, while cutting off Beeves from the herd, or driving flocks away? Or fighting for your city and your wives? Resolve me? I was once a guest of yours. Remember'st not what time at your abode With godlike Menelaus I arrived, That we might win Ulysses with his fleet To follow us to Troy? scarce we prevail'd At last to gain the city-waster Chief, And, after all, consumed a whole month more The wide sea traversing from side to side.
But these vulgarities seemed to please Nastasia Philipovna, although too often they were both rude and offensive. Those who wished to go to her house were forced to put up with Ferdishenko. Possibly the latter was not mistaken in imagining that he was received simply in order to annoy Totski, who disliked him extremely. Gania also was often made the butt of the jester's sarcasms, who used this method of keeping in Nastasia Philipovna's good graces.
"She is abominably rude to keep Charlotte out of doors in all this wind. Why does she not come in?"
Friend! forward with the bow; or soon repent That thou obey'dst the many. I will else With huge stones drive thee, younger as I am, Back to the field. My strength surpasses thine. I would to heav'n that I in force excell'd As far, and prowess, every suitor here! So would I soon give rude dismission hence To some, who live but to imagine harm.
To whom Jove's daughter Helen thus replied. In him the son of old Laërtes know, Ulysses; born in Ithaca the rude, But of a piercing wit, and deeply wise.
"He said; and we with glad consent obey, Forsake the seat, and, leaving few behind, We spread our sails before the willing wind. Now from the sight of land our galleys move, With only seas around and skies above; When o'er our heads descends a burst of rain, And night with sable clouds involves the main; The ruffling winds the foamy billows raise; The scatter'd fleet is forc'd to sev'ral ways; The face of heav'n is ravish'd from our eyes, And in redoubled peals the roaring thunder flies. Cast from our course, we wander in the dark. No stars to guide, no point of land to mark. Ev'n Palinurus no distinction found Betwixt the night and day; such darkness reign'd around. Three starless nights the doubtful navy strays, Without distinction, and three sunless days; The fourth renews the light, and, from our shrouds, We view a rising land, like distant clouds; The mountain-tops confirm the pleasing sight, And curling smoke ascending from their height. The canvas falls; their oars the sailors ply; From the rude strokes the whirling waters fly. At length I land upon the Strophades, Safe from the danger of the stormy seas. Those isles are compass'd by th' Ionian main, The dire abode where the foul Harpies reign, Forc'd by the winged warriors to repair To their old homes, and leave their costly fare. Monsters more fierce offended Heav'n ne'er sent From hell's abyss, for human punishment: With virgin faces, but with wombs obscene, Foul paunches, and with ordure still unclean; With claws for hands, and looks for ever lean.