Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
The unconquerable pang of despised love.
Earth has not anything to show more fair.
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
The child shall become father to the man.
The weight of sadness was in wonder lost.
Wrongs unredressed, or insults unavenged.
Wisdom sits with children round her knees.
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.
O dearer far than light and life are dear.
The memory of the just survives in Heaven.
Of friends, however humble, scorn not one.
Great is the glory, for the strife is hard!
Plain living and high thinking are no more.
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.
One of those heavenly days that cannot die.
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.
Bright gem instinct with music, vocal spark.
A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.
Far from the world I walk, and from all care.
Come grow old with me. The best is yet to be.
For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone.
Small service is true service, while it lasts.
Milton, thou should'st be living at this hour.
Open-mindedness is the harvest of a quiet eye.
Spires whose "silent finger points to heaven."
Milton, in his hand The thing became a trumpet
These hoards of wealth you can unlock at will.
Like an army defeated the snow hath retreated.
Poetry is emotion recollected in tranquillity.
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers.
The homely beauty of the good old cause Is gone
How is it that you live, and what is it you do?
Provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
That inward eye/ Which is the bliss of solitude.
For all things are less dreadful than they seem.
What is pride? A rocket that emulates the stars.
Nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow
poetry is the breath and finer spirit of knowledge
The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive!
The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.
And he is oft the wisest manWho is not wise at all.
The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose.
The wind, a sightless laborer, whistles at his task.
The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly.
Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?