Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Gone, glimmering through the dream of things that were.
It is very certain that the desire of life prolongs it.
Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal.
Next to dressing for a rout or ball, undressing is a woe.
I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.
The beginning of atonement is the sense of its necessity.
Italia! O Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty.
Accursed be the city where the laws would stifle nature's!
Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.
What a strange thing is man! And what a stranger is woman.
This is to be mortal, And seek the things beyond mortality.
The English winter - ending in July to recommence in August
Man is in part divine, A troubled stream from a pure source.
Sleep hath its own world, and the wide realm of wild reality.
What a strange thing man is; and what a stranger thing woman.
And if I laugh at any mortal thing, 'Tis that I may not weep.
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.
Opinions are made to be changed or how is truth to be got at?
I only know we loved in vain; I only feel-farewell! farewell!
Exhausting thought, And hiving wisdom with each studious year.
Fare thee well, and if for ever Still for ever fare thee well.
There are some feelings time cannot benumb, Nor torture shake.
And gentle winds and waters near, make music to the lonely ear.
Sighing that Nature formed but one such man, and broke the die.
All who joy would win must share it. Happiness was born a Twin.
Tis sweet to listen as the night winds creep From leaf to leaf.
Opinions are made to be changed - or how is truth to be got at?
A small drop of ink makes thousands, perhaps millions... think.
A timid mind is apt to mistake every scratch for a mortal wound.
I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between Man and his Maker.
And the commencement of atonement is the sense of its necessity.
Nothing can confound a wise man more than laughter from a dunce.
In commitment, we dash the hopes of a thousand potential selves.
Grief should be the instructor of the wise; Sorrow is Knowledge.
If I could always read, I should never feel the want of company.
Champagne with its foaming whirls/As white as Cleopatra's pearls.
Bologna is celebrated for producing popes, painters, and sausage.
Perhaps the early grave Which men weep over may be meant to save.
A woman being never at a loss... the devil always sticks by them.
Man marks the earth with ruin - his control stops with the shore.
Why do they call me misanthrope? Because They hate me, not I them.
That music in itself, whose sounds are song, The poetry of speech.
He had kept The whiteness of his soul, and thus men o'er him wept.
Who falls from all he knows of bliss, Cares little into what abyss.
No hand can make the clock strike for me the hours that are passed.
Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, All ashes to the taste.
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction.
There is a tear for all who die, A mourner o'er the humblest grave.
In England the only homage which they pay to Virtue - is hypocrisy.