Martin Farquhar Tupper Quotes
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Pain adds rest unto pleasure, and teaches the luxury of health.
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Fearless in honesty, gentle yet just, He warmly can love, and can hate; Nor will he bow down, with his face in the dust, To Fashion's intolerant state;
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Error is a hardy plant; it flourisheth in every soil; In the heart of the wise and good, alike with the wicked and foolish; For there is no error so crooked, but it hath in it some lines of truth; Nor is any poison so deadly, that it serveth not some wholesome use.
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O fair, false city, thou gay and gilded harlot! Wo for thy wanton heart, wo for thy wicked hardness!Wo unto thee, that the lightsomeness of life, beneath Italian suns, Should meet the solemnity of death, in a sepulchre so foul and fearful!
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Wait, thou child of hope, for Time shall teach thee all things.
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A good book is the best of friends, the same today and forever.
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He who does not tire, tires adversity.
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Who shall guess what I may be?Who can tell my fortune to me?For, bravest and brightest that ever was sungMay be - and shall be - the lot of the young!
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God, from a beautiful necessity, is Love.
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His fashion is passion, sincere and intense, - His impulse is simple and true; Yet temper'd by judgment, and taught by good sense, And cordial with me and with you.
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For life, good youth, hath never an illWhich hope cannot scatter, and faith cannot kill;And stubborn realities never shall bindThe free-spreading wings of a cheerful mind.
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If thou art master to thyself, circumstances shall harm thee little.
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Eye hath not seen, tongue hath not told, And ear hath not heard it sung, How buoyant and bold, though it seem to grow old, Is the heart, forever young; - Forever young, - though life's old age Hath every nerve unstrung: The heart, the heart, is a heritage That keeps the old man young!
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Rise! ye gallant youth of Britain,Gather to your country's call,On your hearts her name is written,Rise to help her, one and all!
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When streams of unkindness, as bitter as gall, Bubble up from the heart to the tongue, And Meekness is writhing in torment and thrall, By the hands of Ingratitude wrung, -In the heat of injustice, unwept and unfair, While the anguish is festering yet, None, none but an angel or God can declare 'I now can forgive and forget.'
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I am not old, - I cannot be old, Though threescore years and ten Have wasted away, like a tale that is told, The lives of other men: I am not old ; though friends and foes Alike have gone to their graves, And left me alone to my joys or my woes, As a rock in the midst of the waves.
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If the mind is wearied by study, or the body worn with sickness, It is well to lie fallow for a while, in the vacancy of sheer amusement ; But when thou prosprest in health, and thine intellect can soar untired, To seek uninstructive pleasure is to slumber on the couch of indolence.
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I am not old, - I cannot be old, Though tottering, wrinkled, and gray ; Though my eyes are dim, and my marrow is cold, Call me not old to-day.
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The dews of Hermon rest upon thee now,Fair saint and martyr! and yet once againFaith, hope and charity, like gracious rain,Fall on thy consecrated virgin brow.
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Never give up! it is wiser and better Always to hope, than once to despair. Fling off the load of Doubt's cankering fetter, And break the dark spell of tyrannical care.
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Tell me, ye that strive in vain to cramp and dwarf the soul, Wherefore should it cease to be, and when shall essence die?
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Well-timed silence hath more eloquence than speech.
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'Let byegones be byegones,' - they foolishly say,And bid me be wise and forget them;But old recollections are active to-day,And I can do nought but regret them.
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There is a limit to enjoyment, though the sources of wealth be boundless And the choicest pleasures of life lie within the ring of moderation.