was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?
Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, And many goodly states and kingdoms seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne, Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He stared at the Pacific, and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise, Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
Much have I traveled in the realms of gold, and many goodly states and kingdoms seen.
Who would wish to be among the commonplace crowd of the little famous - who are each individually lost in a throng made up of themselves?
It is a flaw In happiness to see beyond our bourn, - It forces us in summer skies to mourn, It spoils the singing of the nightingale.
Dry your eyes O dry your eyes, For I was taught in Paradise To ease my breast of melodies.
Already with thee! tender is the night. . . But here there is no light. . .
Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu
I equally dislike the favor of the public with the love of a woman - they are both a cloying treacle to the wings of independence.
Knowledge enormous makes a god of me.
Many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death.
But were there ever any Writhed not at passed joy?
A quote about drinking is a joy forever
Alas! when passion is both meek and wild!
Give me books, fruit, French wine and fine weather and a little music out of doors, played by someone I do not know. I admire lolling on a lawn by a water-lilied pond to eat white currants and see goldfish: and go to the fair in the evening if I'm good. There is not hope for that -one is sure to get into some mess before evening.
I shall soon be laid in the quiet grave--thank God for the quiet grave--O! I can feel the cold earth upon me--the daisies growing over me--O for this quiet--it will be my first.
O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth!
There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish.
The Public - a thing I cannot help looking upon as an enemy, and which I cannot address without feelings of hostility.
Conversation is not a search after knowledge, but an endeavor at effect.
He ne'er is crowned with immortality Who fears to follow where airy voices lead.
My spirit is too weak--mortality Weighs heavily on me like unwilling sleep, And each imagin'd pinnacle and steep Of godlike hardship tells me I must die Like a sick Eagle looking at the sky.
Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time.
Deep in the shady sadness of a vale Far sunken from the healthy breath of morn, Far from the fiery noon and eve's one star, Sat gray-haired Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair.
To Hope "When by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom; When no fair dreams before my 'mind's eye' flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom; Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: