Great Throughts Treasury

"Who doth not feel, until his failing sight Faints into dimness with its own delight, His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess, The might--the majesty of Loveliness?"

"Who hath not proved how feebly words essay to fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray? Who doth not feel, until his failing sight faints into dimness with its own delight, his changing cheek, his sinking heart, confess the might, the majesty of loveliness?"

"Who falls from all he knows of bliss, Cares little into what abyss"

"Who killed John Keats? "I," says the Quarterly, so savage and tartarly; "'twas one of my feats.""

"Who like sour fruit to stir their veins' salt tides."

"Who surpasses or subdues mankind, must look down on the hate of those below."

"Who tracks the steps of glory to the grave?"

"Who upon earth could live were all judged justly?"

"Who loves, raves--'tis youth's frenzy--but the cure Is bitterer still."

"Who would be free themselves must strike the blow"

"Whom the gods love die young was said of yore."

"Why did she love him? Curious fool!--be still-- Is human love the growth of human will?"

"Whose game was empires and whose stakes were thrones, Whose table earth, whose dice were human bones."

"Why do they call me misanthrope? Because They hate me, not I them."

"Why don't they knead two virtuous souls for life Into that moral centaur, man and wife?"

"Wine cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires the young, makes weariness forget his toil."

"Wisdom, knowledge, power,--all combined."

"Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?"

"Wished him five fathom under the Rialto."

"With common men there needs to oft the show of war to keep The substance of sweet peace, and for a king, 'tis sometimes better to be fear'd than lov'd."

"With just enough of learning to misquote"

"With but a plank between them and their fate."

"Wordsworth – stupendous genius! Damned fool! These poets run about their ponds though they cannot fish."

"Words are things, and a small drop if ink, Falling like dew upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think."

"Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven!"

"With pleasure drugged, he almost longed for woe"

"With more capacity for love than earth Bestows on most of mortal mold and birth, His early dreams of good out-stripp'd the truth, And troubled manhood follow'd baffled youth."

"Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown."

"With swimming looks of speechless tenderness."

"Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler, And daughters sometimes run off with the butler."

"Woman! Experience might have told me, that all must love thee who behold thee: surely experience might have taught thy firmest promises are nought: but, placed in all thy charms before me, all I forget, but to adore thee."

"Women hate everything which strips off the tinsel of sentiment, and they are right, or it would rob them of their weapons."

"Yet even her tyranny had such a grace, The women pardoned all, except her face."

"Yes--the same sin that overthrew the angels, and of all sins most easily besets mortals the nearest to the angelic nature: The vile are only vain; the great are proud."

"Years steal fire from the mind as vigor from the limb; and life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim."

"Yes! Ready money is Aladdin's lamp."

"Yet how much less it were to gain, though thou hast left me free, the loveliest things that still remain, than thus remember thee."

"Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it"

"Yet doth he live! exclaims th' impatient heir, And sighs for sables which he must not wear."

"Yes--it was love--if thoughts o? Tenderness, tried in temptation, strengthen'd by distress, unmov'd by absence, firm in every clime, and yet--oh more than all! Untired by time, which nor defeated hope, nor baffled wile, could render sullen were she near to smile, nor rage could fire, nor sickness fret to vent on her one murmur of his discontent; which still would meet with joy, with calmness part, lest that his look of grief should reach her heart; which nought removed, nor menaced to remove-- if there be love in mortals--this was love!"

"Yes, Honor decks the turf that wraps their clay."

"Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven; A spark of that immortal fire With angels shared, by Allah given To lift from earth our low desire."

"Yet I did love thee to the last, as fervently as thou, who didst not change through all the past, and canst not alter now."

"Yet in my lineaments they trace some features of my father's face."

"Yet smelt roast meat, beheld a huge fire shine, And cooks in motion with their clean arms bared."

"Yet still there whispers the small voice within, Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din; Whatever creed be taught or land be trod, Man's conscience is the oracle of God."

"Yet truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires, And decorate the verse herself inspires: This fact, in virtue's name, let Crabbe attest,— Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best."

"You are 'the best of cut-throats:'--do not start; The phrase is Shakespeare's, and not misapplied:-- War's a brain-spattering, windpipe-slitting art, Unless her cause by Right be sanctified. If you have acted once a generous part, The World, not the World's masters, will decide, and I shall be delighted to learn who, Save you and yours, have gained by Waterloo? I am no flatterer--you've supped full of flattery: They say you like it too--'tis no great wonder: He whose whole life has been assault and battery, At last may get a little tired of thunder; And swallowing eulogy much more than satire, he May like being praised for every lucky blunder; Called 'Savior of the Nations'--not yet saved, And Europe's Liberator--still enslaved. I've done. Now go and dine from off the plate Presented by the Prince of the Brazils, And send the sentinel before your gate A slice or two from your luxurious meals: He fought, but has not fed so well of late."

"Yet Time, who changes all, had altered him in soul and aspect as in age: Years steal Fire from the mind as vigor from the limb; And Life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim."

"Yet, Freedom! yet the banner, torn, but flying, Streams like the thunderstorm against the wind!"