A face to lose youth for, to occupy age With the dream of, meet death with.
Better have failed in the high aim, as I, Than vulgarly in the low aim succeed As, God be thanked! I do not.
Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.
The rain set early in tonight, The sullen wind was soon awake, It tore the elm-tops down for spite, And did its best to vex the lake: I listened with heart fit to break. When glided in Porphyria; straight She shut the cold out and the storm, And kneeled and made the cheerless grate Blaze up and all the cottage warm.
Have you found your life distasteful? My life did, and does, smack sweet. Was your youth of pleasure wasteful? Mine I saved and hold complete. Do your joys with age diminish? When mine fail me, I'll complain. Must in death your daylight finish? My sun sets to rise again.
There is no truer truth obtainable by Man than comes of music
The trouble that most of us find with the modern matched sets of clubs is that they don't really seem to know any more about the game than the old ones did.
Again the Cousin's whistle! Go, my Love.
Man partly is and wholly hopes to be.
One may do whatever one likes. In art, the only thing is, to make sure that one does like it.
One and all We lend an ear-nay, Science takes thereto- Encourages the meanest who has racked Nature until he gains from her some fact, To state what truth is from his point of view, Mere pin-point though it be: since many such Conduce to make a whole, she bids our friend Come forward unabashed and haply lend His little life-experience to our much Of modern knowledge.
Was there nought better than to enjoy? No feat which, done, would make time break, And let us pent-up creatures through Into eternity, our due? No forcing earth teach heaven's employ?
Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!
"With this same key Shakespeare unlocked his heart" once more! Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare he!
I say, the acknowledgment of God in ChristAccepted by thy reason, solves for theeAll questions in the earth and out of it,And has so far advanced thee to be wise.
Genius has somewhat of the infantine; but of the childish not a touch or taint.
I hear you reproach, "But delay was best, For their end was a crime." Oh, a crime will do As well, I reply, to serve for a test As a virtue golden through and through, Sufficient to vindicate itself And prove its worth at a moment's view! . . . . . . Let a man contend to the uttermost For his life's set prize, be it what it will! The counter our lovers staked was lost As surely as if it were lawful coin; And the sin I impute to each frustrate ghost Is-the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin, Though the end in sight was a vice, I say.
Into the street the piper stepped, Smiling first a little smile As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while. And the piper advanced And the children followed.
I trust in Nature for the stable laws Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant And Autumn garner to the end of time. I trust in God,-the right shall be the right And other than the wrong, while he endures. I trust in my own soul, that can perceive The outward and the inward,-Nature's good And God's.
They are perfect; how else?-they shall never change: We are faulty; why not?-we have time in store.
And inasmuch as feeling, the East's gift, Is quick and transient,- comes, and lo! is gone, While Northern thought is slow and durable.
And I have written three books on the soul, Proving absurd all written hitherto, And putting us to ignorance again.
The body sprang At once to the height, and stayed; but the soul,-no!
Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.
The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung To their first fault, and withered in their pride.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: