Time may restore us in his course Goethe?s sage mind and Byron?s force; but where will Europe?s latter hour again find Wordsworth?s healing power?
Waiting for the spark from heaven to fall.
What really dissatisfies in American civilization is the want of the interesting, a want due chiefly to the want of those two great elements of the interesting, which are elevation and beauty.
With close-lipp'd Patience for our only friend, Sad Patience, too near neighbor to Despair.
Tired of knocking at preferment's door.
Wandering between two worlds, one dead the other powerless to be born, with nowhere yet to rest my head like these, on earth I wait forlorn.
What shelter to grow ripe is ours? What leisure to grow wise?
With women the heart argues, not the mind.
'Tis not to see the world as from a height, with rapt prophetic eyes, and heart profoundly stirred; and weep, and feel the fullness of the past, the years that are not more. With close-lipped Patience for our only friend, Sad Patience, too near neighbor to Despair.
We admire with awe the exulting thunder of your race; you give the universe your law, you triumph over time and space! Your pride of life, your tireless powers, we laud them, but they are not ours.
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly.
Without poetry our science will appear incomplete, and most of what now passes with us for religion and philosophy will be replaced by poetry.
To hear the world applaud the hollow ghost Which blamed the living man.
We are here on earth to do good to others. What the others are here for, I do not know.
What then remains, but that we still should cry not to be born, or being born to die.
Without some strong motive to the contrary, men united by the pursuit of a clearly defined common aim of irresistible attractiveness naturally coalesce; and since they coalesce naturally, they are clearly right in coalescing and find their advantage in it.
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.