Not failure, but low aim, is crime.
The true historical genius, to our thinking, is that which can see the nobler meaning of events that are near him, as the true poet is he who detects the divine in the casual; and we somewhat suspect the depth of his insight into the past who cannot recognize the godlike of to-day under that disguise in which it always visits us.
The realm of death seems an enemy's country to most men, on whose shores they are loathly driven by stress of weather; to the wise man it is the desired port where he moors his bark gladly, as in some quiet haven of the Fortunate Isles; it is the golden west into which his sun sinks, and, sinking, casts back a glory upon the leaden cloud-tack which had darkly besieged his day.
Greatly begin. Though thou have time, but for a line, be that sublime. Not failure, but low aim is crime.
Ah, in this world, where every guiding thread Ends suddenly in the one sure centre, death, The visionary hand of Might-have-been Alone can fill Desire's cup to the brim!
If we see light at the end of the tunnel, it's the light of the oncoming train.
O chime of sweet Saint Charity, Peal soon that Easter morn When Christ for all shall risen be, And in all hearts new-born! That Pentecost when utterance clear To all men shall be given, When all shall say My Brother here, And hear My Son in heaven!
In the gain or loss of one race all the rest have equal claim.
What visionary tints the year puts on, When falling leaves falter through motionless air Or numbly cling and shiver to be gone! How shimmer the low flats and pastures bare, As with her nectar Hebe Autumn fills The bowl between me and those distant hills, And smiles and shakes abroad her misty, tremulous hair!
And blessed are the horny hands of toil.
No price is set on the lavish summer; June may be had by the poorest comer.
Christ was the first true democrat that ever breathed, as the old dramatist Dekkar said he was the first true gentleman.
The right of individual property is no doubt the very corner-stone of civilization, as hitherto understood; but I am a little impatient of being told that property is entitled to exceptional consideration because it bears all the burdens of the state. It bears those, indeed, which can be most easily borne, but poverty pays with its person the chief expenses of war, pestilence, and famine.
Fortune is the rod of the weak, and the staff of the brave.
Of my merit On that pint you yourself may jedge: All is, I never drink no sperit, Nor I haint never signed no pledge.
Winds wanders, and dews drip earthward; Rains fall, suns rise and set; Earth whirls, and all but to prosper A poor little violet.
The purely Great Whose soul no siren passion could unsphere, Thou nameless, now a power and mixed with fate.
Death is delightful. Death is dawn, The waking from a weary night Of fevers unto truth and light.
It is curious how tyrannical the habit of reading is...
Puritanism, believing itself quick with the seed of religious liberty, laid, without knowing it, the egg of democracy.
It may be conjectured that it is cheaper in the long run to lift men up than to hold them down, and that the ballot in their hands is less dangerous to society than a sense of wrong is in their heads.
Fate loves best such syllables as are sweet and sonorous on the tongue.
He gives us the very quintessence of perception,-the clearly crystalized precipitation of all that is most precious in the ferment of impression after the impertinent and obtrusive particulars have evaporated from the memory.
I who still pray at morning and at eve Thrice in my life perhaps have truly prayed, Thrice stirred below conscious self Have felt that perfect disenthrallment which is God.
Where Church and State are habitually associated, it is natural that minds, even of a high order, should unconsciously come to regard religion as only a subtler mode of police.
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