He's just, your cousin, ay, abhorrently, He'd wash his hands in blood, to keep them clean.
But I love you, sir: And when a woman says she loves a man, The man must hear her, though he love her not.
Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love. Yet love me--wilt thou? Open thine heart wide, And fold within, the wet wings of thy dove.
Beloved, let us live so well our work shall still be better for our love, and still our love be sweeter for our work.
The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental; it rejects the edifying cathedral and indelibly photographs the small boy outside, chewing a hunk of melon in the dust.
Our Euripides the human, With his droppings of warm tears, and his touchings of things common Till they rose to meet the spheres.
My patience has dreadful chilblains from standing so long on a monument.
For none can express thee, though all should approve thee. I love thee so, Dear, that I only can love thee.
First time he kissed me, he but only kissed The fingers of this hand wherewith I write; And, ever since, it grew more clean and white.
I, who had had my heart full for hours, took advantage of an early moment of solitude, to cry in it very bitterly. Suddenly a little hairy head thrust itself from behind my pillow into my face, rubbing its ears and nose against me in a responsive agitation, and drying the tears as they came.
The soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak,And placed it by thee on a golden throne,-- And that I love (O soul, we must be meek!)Is by thee only, whom I love alone.
Life treads on life, and heart on heart; We press too close in church and mart To keep a dream or grave apart.
And there my little doves did sit With feathers softly brown And glittering eyes that showed their right To general Nature's deep delight.
And I must bear What is ordained with patience, being aware Necessity doth front the universe With an invincible gesture.
I worked with patience which means almost power.
Purple lilies Dante blew To a larger bubble with his prophet breath.
They say that God lives very high! But if you look above the pines You cannot see our God. And why? And if you dig down in the mines You never see Him in the gold, Though from Him all that's glory shines. God is so good, He wears a fold Of heaven and earth across His face - Like secrets kept, for love, untold. But still I feel that His embrace Slides down by thrills, through all things made, Through sight and sound of every place: As if my tender brother laid On my shut lids, her kisses' pressure, Half waking me at night; and said, "Who kissed through the dark, dear guesser?"
Like to write? Of course, of course I do. I seem to live while I write - it is life, for me.
Books are men of higher stature.
That headlong ivy! not a leaf will grow But thinking of a wreath, . . . I like such ivy; bold to leap a height 'Twas strong to climb! as good to grow on graves As twist about a thyrsus; pretty too (And that's not ill) when twisted round a comb.
O, brothers! let us leave the shame and sin Of taking vainly in a plaintive mood, The holy name of Grief--holy herein, That, by the grief of One, came all our good.
Life, struck sharp on death, Makes awful lightning.
Pan is dead! great Pan is dead! Pan, Pan is dead!
When God helps all the workers for His world, The singers shall have help of Him, not last.
Utterance is the evidence of foregone study.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: