SundayJul 06, 2025
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
Sympathy constitutes friendship; but in love there is a sort of antipathy, or opposing passion. Each strives to be the other, and both together make up one whole.
This is the course of every evil deed, that, propagating still it brings forth evil.
If you would be well with a great mind, leave him with a favorable impression of you; if with a little mind, leave him with a favorable opinion of himself.
As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
He went like one that hath been stunned, And is of sense forlorn: A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn.
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea.
Common sense in an uncommon degree is what the world calls wisdom.
It sounds like stories from the land of spirits, If any man obtain that which he merits, Or any merit that which he obtains.
Prose - words in their best order; Poetry - the best words in their best order.
All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame.
He prayeth best who loveth best All things, both great and small.
Fear at my heart, as at a cup, My life-blood seemed to sip!
How did the atheist get his idea of that God whom he denies?
The Devil did grin, for his darling sin Is pride that apes humility.
Truth is a good dog; but always beware of barking too close to the heels of an error, lest you get your brains kicked out.
Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing, And may this storm be but a mountain-birth, May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling, Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth!
You do not believe, you only believe that you believe.
There is one art of which man should be master, the art of reflection.
The wise only possess ideas; the greater part of mankind are possessed by them.
Life is but thought.
The doing evil to avoid an evil cannot be good.
Language is the armory of the human mind, and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons of its future conquests.
That only can with propriety be styled refinement which, By strengthening the intellect, purifies the manners.
Talent, lying in the understanding, is often inherited; genius, being the action of reason and imagination, rarely or never.
No man was ever yet a great poet, without being at the same time a profound philosopher.
Of Edmund Kean: To see him act is like reading Shakespeare by flashes of lightning.
Real pain can alone cure us of imaginary ills. We feel a thousand miseries till we are lucky enough to feel misery.
Our own heart, and not other men's opinion, form our true honor.
The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, Slaves by their own compulsion! In mad game They burst their manacles and wear the name Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain!
A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn.
Advice is like snow; the softer it falls the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper it sinks into the mind.
Alone, alone,all, all alone; Alone on a wide, wide sea.
Exclusively of the abstract sciences, the largest and worthiest portion of our knowledge consists of aphorisms, and the greatest and best of men is but an aphorism.
A lady richly clad as she, Beautiful exceedingly.
Why are not more gems from our great authors scattered over the country ....Let every bookworm, when in any fragrant, scarce, old tome he discovers a sentence, a story, an illustration, that does his heart good, hasten to give it.
Our own heart, and not other men's opinions, forms our true honor.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.
Common sense, in an uncommon degree, is what the world calls wisdom.
The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out: At one stride comes the dark; With far-heard whisper o'er the sea, Off shot the spectre-bark.
The light which experience gives us is a lantern on the stern which shines only on the waves behind us.
Carv'd with figures strange and sweet, All made out of the carver's brain.
Friendship is a sheltering tree.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge was involved in a discussion about religion. The other person believed that children should not be given formal religious education of any kind. They would then be free to select their own religion when they were old enough to decide. Coleridge did not bother to debate the point, but invited the man to see his rather neglected garden. 'Do you call this a garden?' asked his visitor. 'There are nothing but weeds here.' 'Well, you see,' said Coleridge, 'I did not wish to infringe on the liberty of the garden in any way. I was just giving the garden a chance to express itself and choose its own production.
The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions the little, soon forgotten charities of a kiss or smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment, and the countless infinitesimals of pleasurable and genial feeling.
A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Our quaint metaphysical opinions, in an hour of anguish, are like playthings by the bedside of a child deathly sick.
That saints will aid if men will call; For the blue sky bends over all!
My eyes make pictures when they are shut.
Language is the armoury of the human mind, and at once contains the trophies of its past and the weapons of its future conquests.
How well he fell asleepl Like some proud river, widening toward the sea; Calmly and grandly, silently and deep, Life joined eternity.
He holds him with his glittering eye, And listens like a three years' child.
So lonely 't was, that God himself Scarce seemed there to be.
Like one that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head, Because he knows a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
And thou art long and lank and brown, As is the ribbed sea-sand.
Her gentle limbs did she undress, And lay down in her loveliness.
...from the time of Kepler to that of Newton, and from Newton to Hartley, not only all things in external nature, but the subtlest mysteries of life and organization, and even of the intellect and moral being, were conjured within the magic circle of mathematical formulae.
The moving moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide; Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside.
All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair The bees are stirring birds are on the wing And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
The nightmare Life-in-Death was she.
Pity is best taught by fellowship in woe.
He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small.
He saw a cottage with a double coach-house, A cottage of gentility; And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin Is pride that apes humility.
Red as a rose is she.
The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne; But tell me, nymphs! what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine?
No mind is thoroughly well-organized that is deficient in a sense of humor.
A sight to dream of, not to tell!
We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea.
For she belike hath drunken deep/Of all the blessedness of sleep.
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole.
And the spring comes slowly up this way.
A spring of love gush'd from my heart, And I bless'd them unaware.
Talent, lying in the understanding, is often inherited; genius, being the action of reason or imagination, rarely or never.
Often do the spirits of great events stride on before the events. And in today already walks tomorrow.
Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink.
Without a breeze, without a tide, She steadies with upright keel.
The Jews would not willingly tread upon the smallest piece of paper in their way, but took it up; for possibly, they say, the name of God may be on it. Though there was a little superstition in this, yet truly there is nothing but good religion in it, if we apply it to men. Trample not on any; there may be some work of grace there, that thou knowest not of. The name of God may be written upon that soul thou treadest on; it may be a soul that Christ thought so much of, as to give His precious blood for it; therefore despise it not.
So will I build my altar in the fields, And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be, And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields Shall be the incense I will yield to thee.
Poetry, even that of the loftiest, and seemingly, that of the wildest odes, [has] a logic of its own as severe as that of science; and more difficult, because more subtle, more complex, and dependent on more and more fugitive causes. In the truly great poets... there is a reason assignable, not only for every word, but for the position of every word.
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