Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon, When she deserts the night Hid in her vacant interlunar cave.
So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear,Farewell remorse: all good to me is lost;Evil,be thou my good.
What if Earth be but the shadow of Heaven and things therein - each other like, more than on Earth is thought?
Come to the sunset tree! The day is past and gone; The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done.
Prudence is the virtue by which we discern what is proper to do under various circumstances in time and place.
I must not quarrel with the will Of highest dispensation, which herein, Haply had ends above my reach to know.
With diadem and sceptre high advanced, The lower still I fall; only supreme In misery; such joy ambition finds.
Nothing lovelier can be found In woman, than to study household good, And good works in her husband to promote.
And as an ev'ning dragon came, Assailant on the perched roosts And nests in order rang'd Of tame villatic fowl.
The pilot of the Galilean lake; Two massy keys he bore, of metals twain (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).
Virtue, which breaks through opposition and all temptation can remove, most shines, and most is acceptable above.
Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss
I on the other side Us'd no ambition to commend my deeds; The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the doer.
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades High over-arch'd imbower.
Virtue could see to do what Virtue would by her own radiant light, though sun and moon where in the flat sea sunk.
Each tree Laden with fairest fruit, that hung to th' eye Tempting, stirr'd in me sudden appetite To pluck and eat.
Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
Day and night, Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost Shall hold their course, till fire purge all things new.
He left it in thy power, ordaind thy will By nature free, not over-rul'd by Fate Inextricable, or strict necessity.
So scented the grim Feature, and upturn'd His nostril wide into the murky air, Sagacious of his quarry from so far.
Who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image, but thee who destroys a good book, kills reason its self.
Anarchy is the sure consequence of tyranny; for no power that is not limited by laws can ever be protected by them.
Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell, . . . . And boldly venture to whatever place Farthest from pain?
The olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long.
So much I feel my genial spirits droop, My hopes all flat, nature within me seems In her functions weary of herself.
I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down The dark descent, and up to reascend.
For such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not bettered by the borrowers, among good authors is accounted Plagiarè.
He who would not be frustrate of his hope to write well hereafter in laudable things ought himself to be a true poem.
Now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd,-wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse.
Chaos umpire sits And by decision more embroils the fray by which he reigns: next him high arbiter Chance governs all.
From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, But rush upon me thronging.
Innumerable as the stars of night, Or stars of morning, dewdrops which the sun Impearls on every leaf and every flower.
All is not lost, the unconquerable will, and study of revenge, immortal hate, and the courage never to submit or yield.
And now the herald lark Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry The morn's approach, and greet her with his song.
Yet some there be that by due steps aspire To lay their just hands on that golden key That opes the palace of Eternity.
Man hath his daily work of body or mind Appointed, which declares his dignity, And the regard of Heav'n on all his ways.
Yet I argue not Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer Right onward.
On a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring sound Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder.
No worthy enterprise can be done by us without continual plodding and wearisomeness to our faint and sensitive abilities.
O loss of sight, of thee I most complain! Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, Dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age!
And fast by, hanging in a golden chain, This pendent world, in bigness as a star Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon.
I fled, and cry'd out, Death; Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd From all her caves, and back resounded, Death.
This manner of writing wherein knowing myself inferior to myself? I have the use, as I may account it, but of my left hand.
Though we take from a covetous man all his treasure, he has yet one jewel left; you cannot bereave him of his covetousness.
No institution which does not continually test its ideals, techniques and measure of accomplishment can claim real vitality.
In Physic, things of melancholic hue and quality are used against melancholy, sour against sour, salt to remove salt humors.
Knowledge forbidden? Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord Envy them that? Can it be a sin to know? Can it be death?
So glistered the dire Snake , and into fraud Led Eve, our credulous mother, to the Tree Of Prohibition, root of all our woe.
Come, pensive nun, devout and pure, sober steadfast, and demure, all in a robe of darkest grain, flowing with majestic train.
Oft, on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-watered shore, Swinging low with sullen roar.