Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore, And the individual withers, and the world is more and more.
Sin is too stupid to see beyond itself.
I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods: I envy not the beast that takes His license in the field of time, Unfetter’d by the sense of crime, To whom a conscience never wakes; Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate’er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; ‘Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all.
Authority forgets a dying king.
Either sex alone is half itself.
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of: Wherefore, let they voice, Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
But while I breathe Heaven's air and Heaven looks down on me, And smiles at my best meanings, I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.
And others' follies teach us not, Nor much their wisdom teaches, And most, of sterling worth, is what Our own experience preaches.
Be near me when my light is low... And all the wheels of being slow.
Dark house, by which once more I stand Here in the long unlovely street, Doors, where my heart was used to beat So quickly, waiting for a hand, A hand that can be clasp'd no more - Behold me, for I cannot sleep, And like a guilty thing I creep At earliest morning to the door. He is not here; but far away The noise of life begins again, And ghastly thro' the drizzling rain On the bald street breaks the blank day.
Like glimpses of forgotten dreams.
Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again.
Fill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born.
Men may come and men may go but I go on forever.
The woman is so hard Upon the woman.
And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.
Like a dog, he hunts in dreams.
Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.
And every dew-drop paints a bow.
Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell when I embark.
The woman's cause is man's. They rise or sink Together. / Dwarf'd or godlike, bound or free; miserable, / How shall men grow? - Let her be / All that not harms distinctive womanhood.
Never, oh! never, nothing will die; The stream flows, The wind blows, The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die.
He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.
A smile abroad is often a scowl at home.
The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
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