Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Though triumphs were to generals only due, crowns were reserved to grace the soldiers too.
Oh, blindness to the future! kindly giv'n, That each may fill the circle mark'd by heaven.
A God without dominion, providence, and final causes, is nothing else but fate and nature.
Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be.
What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards? Alas! not all the blood, of all the Howards.
See Christians, Jews, one heavy sabbath keep, And all the western world believe and sleep.
Order is Heaven's first law; and this confess, Some are and must be greater than the rest.
Where London's column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts the head, and lies.
Some are bewildered in the maze of schools, And some made coxcombs nature meant but fools.
You beat your Pate, and fancy Wit will come: Knock as you please, there's no body at home.
The dead keep their secrets, and in a while we shall be as wise as they - and as taciturn.
I can't be anonymous by reason of your confounded photographs. (To Julia Margaret Cameron)
You become a good writer just as you become a good joiner: by planing down your sentences.
Word-carpentry is like any other kind of carpentry: you must join your sentences smoothly.
We do not know what to do with this short life, yet we want another which will be eternal.
The world in all doth but two nations bear- The good, the bad; and these mixed everywhere.
But I can't and don't ever want to write bell-yanking confetti-tossing hat-throwing poems.
Authority without wisdom is like a heavy ax without an edge, fitter to bruise than polish.
Those nights lying alone are not discontinuous with this cold hectic dawn. It is who I am.
Roy's wife of Aldivalloch, Wat ye how she cheated me, As I came o'er the braes of Balloch?
All considerations for these human remains! They must have an escort! They are classified!
I think of the amazing things that were going on. So it's so rich. The doors keep opening.
When your suffering is a little greater than my suffering I feel that I am a little cruel.
The flower that you hold in your hands was born today and already it is as old as you are.
Whose hearts must I break? What lies must I maintain? - Through whose blood am I to wade ?
If you make things sound inoffensively obvious, then it is likely that no one will listen.
If the Fleeting World is but a long dream, it does not matter whether one is young or old.
To sustain your belief through situations that completely undermine it is quite something.
Sometimes when the wind is blowing in my hair, I cry because its coolness is too beautiful
If people come to a record store, and they can't find your album, they buy something else.
God forgive us-but most of us grew up to be the sort of men our mothers warned us against.
There was a typewriter buried alive in that horse, the one I road to get out of the flood.
I always say that I'll have a go and see whether the poem works and if it does, then fine.
I hate and love. And why, perhaps you’ll ask. I don’t know: but I feel, and I’m tormented.
From someone who doesn't want to share your destiny, you should neither accept a cigarette
Evil is done without effort, naturally, it's destiny; good is always the product of skill.
The old Paris is no more (the form of a city changes faster, alas! than a mortal's heart).
The study of beauty is a duel in which the artist cries with terror before being defeated.
Those who escape hell however never talk about it and nothing much bothers them after that
Alcohol is probably one of the greatest things to arrive upon the earth - alongside of me.
If you can only remain pure in your stupidity, someday you may get a phone call from hell.
from the beginning, through the middle years and up to the end: too bad, too bad, too bad.
My love is a hummingbird sitting that quiet moment on the bough, as the same cat crouches.
Constant attention wears the active mind, Blots out our pow'rs, and leaves a blank behind.
Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all others were making ships.
Everyone knows this. The voyage into the interior is all that matters, Whatever your ride.
There's a whole language out there, and one's role as a writer is to stumble around in it.
The night whose sable breast relieves the stark, White stars, is no less lovely being dark
The promises of God are samples of what is promised; as a handful of wheat is of the barn.
The only thing more frustrating than slanderers is those foolish enough to listen to them.