Go practice if you please with men and women: leave a child alone for Christ’s particular love’s sake!
So, fall asleep love, loved by me….for I know love, I am loved by thee.
Our interest’s on the dangerous edge of things. The honest thief, the tender murderer, the superstitious atheist.
Measure your mind’s height by the shade it casts.
There’s a new tribunal now higher than God’s—The educated man s!
Take away love and our earth is a tomb.
Ambition is not what man does… but what man would do.
Truth lies within ourselves: it takes no rise from outward things, whatever you may believe. There is an inmost center in us all, where truth abides in fullness and to Know rather consists in opening out a way whence the imprisoned splendor may escape than in effecting entry for light supposed to be without.
Topics: Thought, Reason, Truth
Truth never hurts the teller.
There are those who believe something, and therefore will tolerate nothing; and on the other hand, those who tolerate everything, because they believe nothing.
My sun sets to rise again.
In heaven I yearn for knowledge, account all else inanity;
On earth I confess an itch for the praise of fools – that’s vanity.
‘Twere too absurd to slight for the hereafter, the day’s delight.
Topics: The Present
Fail I alone, in words and deeds?
Why, all men strive and who succeeds?
Love is energy of life.
I trust in Nature for the stable laws
Of beauty and utility. Spring shall plant
And Autumn garner to the end of time.
Man seeks his own good at the whole world’s cost.
I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.
What I aspired to be and was not, comforts me.
Who hears music feels his solitude peopled at once.
Good, to forgive; Best to forget.
Where the apple reddens never pry—lest we lose our Edens, Eve and I.
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.
It’s like those eerie stories nurses tell,
Of how some actor on a stage played Death,
With pasteboard crown, sham orb and tinselled dart,
And called himself the monarch of the world;
Then, going in the tire-room afterward,
Because the play was done, to shift himself,
Got touched upon the sleeve familiarly,
The moment he had shut the closet door,
By Death himself. Thus God might touch a Pope
At unawares, ask what his baubles mean,
And whose part he presumed to play just now.
Best be yourself, imperial, plain and true!
Topics: Death, Sincerity
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- Coventry Patmore English Poet
- Edmund Spenser English Poet
- John Gay English Poet, Dramatist
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- William Congreve English Dramatist