Philip James Bailey

Philip James

English Spasmodic Poet

Author Quotes

When night hath set her silver lamp high, then is the time for study.

She spake, and his love-wilder'd and idolatrous soul clung to the airy music of her words, like a bird on a bough, high swaying in the wind.

There are whole veins of diamonds in thine eyes, Might furnish crowns for all the Queens of earth.

Where doubt there truth is?'tis her shadow.

Star canto: star speaks light, and world to world repeats the passage of the universe to God--the one great word well worth all languages in earth or heaven.

Thou art a woman, and that is saying the best and worst of thee.

Who never doubted never half believed

Stars which stand as thick as dewdrops on the field of heaven.

Thou wind! Which art the unseen similitude of God The Spirit, His most meet and mightiest sign.

Who never doubted, never half believed. Where doubt is, there truth is -- it is her shadow.

Surely the stars are images of love.

Thy talk is the sweet extract of all speech, And holds mine ear in blissful slavery.

Why Mammon sits before a million hearths Where God is bolted out from every house.

The beautiful are never desolate; but someone always loves them--God or man. If man abandons, God himself takes them.

Tis man himself makes his own god and his own hell.

With something good and bad of every land.

The death-bed of a day, how beautiful!

'Tis- of the tears which stars weep, sweet with joy.

Words are the motes of thought, and nothing more.

The dew, 'tis of the tears which stars weep, sweet with joy.

True faith nor biddeth nor abideth form, the bended knee, the eye uplift; is all which men need render; all which God can bear. What to the faith are forms? A passing speck, a crow upon the sky.

Write to the mind and heart, and let the ear glean after what it can.

Blest is he whose heart is the home of the great dead and their great thoughts.

Field of the soul's best wisdom: home of truth,

I love night more than day ? she is so lovely; but I love night the most because she brings my love to me in dreams which scarcely lie.

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Philip James
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English Spasmodic Poet