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O friend, my bosom said,
Through thee alone the sky is arched.
Through thee the rose is red;
All things through thee take nobler form,
And look beyond the earth,
The mill-round of our fate appears
A sun-path in thy worth.
Me too thy nobleness has taught
To master my despair;
The fountains of my hidden life
Are through thy friendship fair.
O rich and various man! thou palace of sight and sound, carrying in thy senses the morning and the night, and the unfathomable galaxy; in thy brain, the geometry of the city of God; in thy heart, the power of love and the realms of right and wrong. An individual man is a fruit which it cost all the foregoing ages to form and ripen. He is strong, not to do, but to live; not in his arms, but in his heart; not as an agent, but as a fact.
O world, what pictures and what harmonies are thine!
O, when I am safe in my sylvan home,
I mock at the pride of Greece and Rome;
And when I am stretch'd beneath the pines
When the evening star so holy shines,
I laugh at the lore and pride of man,
At the Sophist's schools, and the learned clan;
For what are they all in their high conceit,
When man in the bush with God may meet?
Obedience alone gives the right to command.
Of all wit's uses, the main one is to live well with who has none.
Often a certain abdication of prudence and foresight is an element of success.
Oh, be my friend, and teach me to be thine!
On bravely through the sunshine and the showers!
Time hath his work to do, and we have ours.
One man pins me to the wall, while with another I walk among the stars.
One more royal trait properly belongs to the poet. I mean his cheerfulness, without which no man can be a poet,--for beauty is his aim. He loves virtue, not for its obligation, but for its grace; he delights in the world, in man, in woman, for the lovely light that sparkles from them. Beauty, the spirit of joy and hilarity, he sheds over the universe.
One of the illusions is that the present hour is not the critical, decisive hour. Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year. No man has learned anything rightly, until he knows that every day is Doomsday.
One of the most wonderful things in nature is a glance; it transcends speech; it is the bodily symbol of identity.
Only by the supernatural is a man strong--only by confiding in the divinity which stirs within us. Nothing is so weak as an egotist--nothing is mightier than we, when we are vehicles of a truth before which the state and the individual are alike ephemeral.
Only that is poetry which cleanses and mans me.
Other men are lenses through which we read our own minds.
Our best thought came from others.
- [Quotations : Thought]
Our best thought comes from others.
Our chief want in life, is, somebody who shall make us do what we can.
Our fear of death is like our fear that summer will be short, but when we have had our swing of pleasure, our fill of fruit and our swelter of heat, we say we have had our day.
Our globe discovers its bidden virtues, not only in heroes and arch-angels, but in gossips and nurses.
Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail.
Our impatience of miles, when we are in a hurry; but it is still best that a mile should have seventeen hundred and sixty yards.
- [Impatience : Motive]
Our poets are men of talents who sing, and not the children of music.
Passion, though a bad regulator, is a powerful spring.
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