Matthew Arnold


English Critic, Essayist, Poet, Educator

Author Quotes

To popular religion, the real kingdom of God is the New Jerusalem with its jaspers and emeralds; righteousness and peace and joy are only the kingdom of God figuratively.

We cannot kindle when we will the fire that in the heart resides, the spirit bloweth and is still, in mystery our soul abides; ? But tasks, in hours of insight willed, can be through hours of gloom fulfilled.

What thwarts us and demands of us the greatest effort is also what can teach us most.

Wordsworth has gone from us ? and ye, ah, may ye feel his voice as we! He too upon a wintry clime had fallen ? on this iron time of doubts, disputes, distractions, fears.

To see the object as in itself it really is.

We do not what we ought; what we ought not, we do; and lean upon the thought that chance will bring us through; but our own acts, for good or ill, are mightier powers.

When Byron's eyes were shut in death, We bow'd our head and held our breath. He taught us little; but our soul Had felt his like a thunder roll? We watch'd the fount of fiery life Which serv'd for that Titanic life.

Years hence, perhaps, may dawn an age, more fortunate, alas! Than we, which without hardness will be sage, and gay without frivolity. Sons of the world, oh, speed those years; but, while we wait, allow our tears!

To thee only God granted a heart ever new: to all always open; to all always true.

We forget because we must And not because we will.

When we first saw the news of the bombing we didn't know he was out there [in Bali].

Yes ! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone.

Too fast we live, too much are tried, Too harass'd, to attain Wordsworth's sweet calm, or Goethe's wide And luminous view to gain.

We mortal millions live alone.

Where great whales come sailing by, sail and sail, with unshut eye, round the world for ever and aye? When did music come this way? Children dear, was it yesterday?

Yes, thou art gone! and round me too the night in ever-nearing circle weaves her shade. I see her veil draw soft across the day, I feel her slowly chilling breath invade the cheek grown thin, the brown hair sprent with grey; I feel her finger light laid pausefully upon life?s headlong train; ? The foot less prompt to meet the morning dew, the heart less bounding at emotion new, and hope, once crush?d, less quick to spring again.

Too quick despairer, wherefore wilt thou go? Soon will the high midsummer pomps come on.

We shall renew the battle in the plain Tomorrow?red with blood will Xanthus be; Hector and Ajax will be there again, Helen will come upon the wall to see.

Wherever there is cupidity, there the blessing of the Gospel cannot rest. The actual poor, therefore, may altogether fail to be objects of that blessing, the actual rich may be the objects of it in the highest degree.

Yes: in the sea of life enisl?d, with echoing straits between us thrown, dotting the shoreless watery wild, we mortal millions live alone.

Too rare, too rare, grow now my visits here, but once I knew each field, each flower, each stick;

We, in some unknown Power's employ, move on a rigorous line; can neither, when we will, enjoy, nor, when we will, resign.

Whispering from her [Oxford's] towers the last enchantments of the Middle Age...Home of lost causes, and forsaken beliefs, and unpopular names, and impossible loyalties!

Yet they, believe me, who await no gifts from Chance, have conquer'd Fate.

Truth sits upon the lips of dying men, and falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine.

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English Critic, Essayist, Poet, Educator