Gerard Manley Hopkins Quotes
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Natural heart's ivy, Patience masks Our ruins of wrecked past purpose.
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The effect of studying masterpieces is to make me admire and do otherwise.
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Crystal sincerity hath found no shelter but in a fool's cap.
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Religion, you know, enters very deep; in reality it is the deepest impression I have in speaking to people, that they are or that they are not of my religion.
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No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
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Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the Stooks arise Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behavior Of silk-sack clouds! Has wilder, willful-waiver Meal-drift molded ever and melted across skies?
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I have desired to go Where springs not fail, To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail And a few lilies blow.
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Nothing is so beautiful as spring - when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.
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The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
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Lovely the woods, waters, meadows, combes, vales, All the air things wear that build this world of Wales.
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Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just. Why do sinners' ways prosper? and why must Disappointment all I endeavour end?
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I hold with the old-fashioned criticism that Browning is not really a poet, that he has all the gifts but the one needful and the pearls without the string; rather one should say raw nuggets and rough diamonds.
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My own heart let me more have pity on; let Me live to my sad self hereafter kind, Charitable; not live this tormented mind With this tormented mind tormenting yet.
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I do not think I have ever seen anything more beautiful than the bluebell I have been looking at. I know the beauty of our Lord by it.
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And I have asked to be Where no storms come, Where the green swell is in the havens dumb, And out of the swing of the sea.
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O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed.
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The Indian gods are imposing, the Greek gods are not. Indeed they are not brave, not self-controlled, they have no manners, they are not gentlemen and ladies.
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But . . . I may as well say what I should not otherwise have said, that I always knew in my heart Walt Whitman’s mind to be more like my own than any other man’s living. As he is a very great scoundrel this is not a pleasant confession.
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I find myself both as man and as myself something more determined and distinctive, at pitch, more distinctive and higher pitched than anything else I see.
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What you look at hard seems to look at you.
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It seems then that it is not the excellence of any two things (or more) in themselves, but those two things as viewed by the light of each other, that makes beauty.
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It kills me to be time's eunuch and never to beget.
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I awoke in the Midsummer not-to-call night, in the white and the walk of the morning
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Birds buildbut not I build; no, but strain, Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes. Mine,O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.