Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Ill husbandry braggeth To go with the best: Good husbandry baggeth Up gold in his chest.
Teachers are the ministers and priests of culture, its practitioners and its emissaries.
I think I love jokes! The best jokes are equal to the best art, in my mind, and as rare.
We can have a World War, I see absolutely no reason why we shouldn't have a World Party.
To think is of itself to be useful; it is always and in all cases a striving toward God.
Mothers arms are made of tenderness, And sweet sleep blesses the child who lies therein.
Rhyme, that enslaved queen, that supreme charm of our poetry, that creator of our meter.
Symmetry is ennui, and ennui is the very essence of grief and melancholy. Despair yawns.
No human being is innocent, but there is a class of innocent human actions called Games.
I know nothing, except what everyone knows - if there when Grace dances, I should dance.
There was still gold and silver in the mountains, And hunger was a more immediate sorrow
Behind you swiftly the figure comes softly, The spot on your skin is a shocking disease.
The surest sign that a man has a genuine taste of his own is that he is uncertain of it.
A violent order is disorder; and a great disorder is an order. These two things are one.
Yet there is no spring in Florida, neither in boskage perdu, nor on the nunnery beaches.
The magnificent cause of being, The imagination, the one reality In this imagined world.
Day by day and night by night we were together - all else has long been forgotten by me.
Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
The past, the future, majesty, love - if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.
The first great work (a task performed by few) Is that yourself may to yourself be true.
To discover one's own spiritual poverty is to achieve a positive conquest by the spirit.
The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?
What can be shown? What true love be? All could be known or shown If Time were but gone.
I have drunk ale from the Country of the Young / And weep because I know all things now.
Before me floats an image, man or shade, / Shade more than man, more image than a shade.
Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke.
Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.
Where penury is felt the thought is chain'd, And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few.
All truth is precious, if not all divine; and what dilates the powers must needs refine.
My soul is sick with every day's report of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.
Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?
Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well; and yet words are not deeds.
What fates impose, that men must needs abide; it boots not to resist both wind and tide.
To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune; but to write and read comes by nature.
Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that And manage it against despairing thoughts.
Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly at your service
Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies; Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies
Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime...
This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh!
Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on.
Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on.
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror: For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
O, that our fathers would applause our loves, To seal our happiness with hteir consents!
Winter, which, being full of care, makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.
Get thee glass eyes, and like a scurvy politician, seem to see the things thou dost not.
If after every tempest come such calms, May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with passion would I shake the world.
Should all despair That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves.
He's loved of the distracted multitude, who like not in their judgement, but their eyes.