Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
A poet without love were a physical and metaphysical impossibility.
I am sailing with thee through the dizzy sky! How beautiful thou art!
O, sorrow! Why dost borrow Heart's lightness from the merriment of May?
O latest born and loveliest vision far of all Olympus' faded hierarchy.
Fanatics have their dreams, wherewith they weave a paradise for a sect.
I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave - thank God for the quiet grave
Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.
Conversation is not a search after knowledge, but an endeavor at effect.
Some say the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul-making.
was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?
I have nothing to speak of but my self-and what can I say but what I feel.
Many have original minds who do not think it - they are led away by custom!
Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.
What is there in thee, Moon! That thou should'st move My heart so potently?
Already with thee! tender is the night. . . But here there is no light. . .
You cannot conceive how I ache to be with you: how I would die for one hour.
It ought to come like the leaves to the trees, or it better not come at all.
The imagination may be compared to Adam's dream-he awoke and found it truth.
I would jump down Etna for any public good - but I hate a mawkish popularity.
O for the gentleness of old Romance, the simple planning of a minstrel's song!
Life is but a day; A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way From a tree's summit.
I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.
For axioms in philosophy are not axioms until they are proved upon our pulses.
Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed Casket of my Soul.
How beautiful, if sorrow had not made Sorrow more beautiful than Beauty's self.
When it is moving on luxurious wings, The soul is lost in pleasant smotherings.
Every mental pursuit takes its reality and worth from the ardour of the pursuer.
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.
He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies when a new planet swims into his ken.
His religion at best is an anxious wish,-like that of Rabelais, a great Perhaps.
I never can feel certain of any truth, but from a clear perception of its beauty.
How does the poet speak to men with power, but by being still more a man than they
I will imagine you Venus tonight and pray, pray, pray to your star like a Heathen.
Like a mermaid in sea-weed, she dreams awake, trembling in her soft and chilly nest.
A man should have the fine point of his soul taken off to become fit for this world.
Beauty is truth, truth beauty,-that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is - Love, forgive us! - cinders, ashes, dust.
A little noiseless noise among the leaves, Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.
Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen.
Sweet are the pleasures that to verse belong, And doubly sweet a brotherhood in song.
When I have fears that I may ceace to be, Before my pen has gleaned my teaming brain".
Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the minds of men.
She hurried at his words, beset with fears, For there were sleeping dragons all around.
The feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steel it.
I wish I was either in your arms full of faith, or that a Thunder bolt would strike me.
And when thou art weary I'll find thee a bed, Of mosses and flowers to pillow thy head.
She press'd his hand in slumber; so once more He could not help but kiss her and adore.
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains/ My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk.
Health is the greatest of blessings - with health and hope we should be content to live.