Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Poetry isn't an activity, it's a way life is lived.
There is only now. And look! How rich we are in it!
There is nothing like a dream to create the future.
Adversity makes men, and prosperity makes monsters.
It is by suffering that human beings become angels.
Whatever causes night in our souls may leave stars.
The rich's paradise was created by the poor's hell.
Houses are like the human beings that inhabit them.
The Britons are quite separated from all the world.
Yield not to evils, but attack all the more boldly.
Better times perhaps await us who are now wretched.
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death.
My words itch at your ears till you understand them
To have great poets, there must be great audiences.
All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.
A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.
Make your own rules or be a slave to another man's.
Better to shun the bait than struggle in the snare.
He who has suffered you to impose on him knows you.
For all eternity, I forgive you and you forgive me.
All wholesome food is caught without a net or trap.
Art can never exist without naked beauty displayed.
Praises reap not! Joys laugh not! Sorrows weep not!
Love is unworldly and nothing comes of it but love.
Ever let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home.
Generous souls Are still most subject to credulity.
Neither our vices nor our virtues further the poem.
The birth of a child is the imprisonment of a soul.
To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.
There was a star danced, and under that was I born.
Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.
April ... hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod.
Welcome ever smiles, and farewell goes out sighing.
Women speak two languages - one of which is verbal.
Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.
Love does not see with the eyes, but with the soul.
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings.
My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist me!
Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart.
O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the Devil!
Better three hours too soon, than one hour to late.
Let the galled jade wince; our withers are unwrung.
Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come
Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining.
This fell sergeant, Death, Is strict in his arrest.
The miserable have no other medicine But only hope.
Be checked for silence, But never taxed for speech.
Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining.