ThursdayJul 31, 2025
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
The City is of Night; perchance of Death, But certainly of Night; for never there Can come the lucid morning's fragrant breath After the dewy dawning's cold gray air.
The vilest thing must be less vile than Thou From whom it had its being, God and Lord!
Peace is the happy natural state of man; war is corruption and disgrace.
Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves.
An elegant, sufficiency, content, Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books.
A bard here dwelt, more fat than bard be-seems, Who, void of envy, guile, and lust of gain, On virtue still, and natures pleasing themes, Poured from his unpremeditated strain.
Crowned with the sickle, and wheaten sheaf, While Autumn, nodding oer the yellow plain, Comes jovial on.
Welcome, ye shades! ye bowery Thickets hail! Ye lofty Pines! ye venerable Oaks! Ye Ashes wild, resounding oer the steep! Delicious is your shelter to the soul.
An elegant sufficiency, content, Retirement, rural, quiet, friendship, books.
Come then, expressive silence, muse His praise.
Forever, Fortune, wilt thou prove An unrelenting foe to love, And, when we meet a mutual heart, Come in between and bid us part?
Come gentle Spring! ethereal mildness, come.
A pleasing land of drowsyhead it was.
A little round, fat, oily man of God.
Among the changing months, May stands confest The sweetest, and in fairest colors dressed.
But who can paint Like nature? Can imagination boast, Amid its gay creation, hues like hers?
Ships dim-discovered dropping from the clouds.
Or where the Northern ocean, in vast whirls, Boils round the naked melancholy isles Of farthest Thulé and the Atlantic surge Pours in among the stormy Hebrides.
But yonder comes the powerful King of Day, Rejoicing in the East.
Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot.
For loveliness Needs not the foreign aid of ornament, But is when unadorned adorned the most.
Sighed and looked unutterable things.
When Britain first, at Heavens command, Arose from out the azure main, This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung this strain: Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves.
An elegant sufficiency, content, Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, Ease and alternate labour, useful life, Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven!
See, Winter comes to rule the varied world, Sullen and sad.
There studious let me sit, And hold high converse with the mighty dead.
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