Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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I stood on a tower in the wet, And New Year and Old Year met, And winds were roaring and blowing: And I said, "O years, that meet in tears, Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? Science enough and exploring, Wanderers coming and going, Matter enough for deploring, But aught that is worth the knowing?
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The woods decay, the woods decay and fall.
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And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
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O earth, what changes hast thou seen!
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Love is the only gold.
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A smile abroad is often a scowl at home.
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What was once to me mere matter of the fancy now has grown the vast necessity of heart and life.
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The same words conceal and declare the thoughts of men.
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No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.
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The quiet sense of something lost.
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I have led her home, my love, my only friend. There is none like her, none, And never yet so warmly ran my blood, And sweetly, on and on Calming itself to the long-wished for end, Full to the banks, close on the prom- ised good.
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We cannot be kind to each other here for even an hour. We whisper, and hint, and chuckle and grin at our brother's shame; however you take it we men are a little breed.
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No man ever got very high by pulling other people down. The intelligent merchant does not knock his competitors. The sensible worker does not knock those who work with him. Don't knock your friends. Don't knock your enemies. Don't knock yourself.
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Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt, And cling to faith beyond the forms of faith; She reels not at the storm of warring words; She brightens at the clash of "Yes" and "No"; She sees the best that glimmers through the worst; She feels the sun is hid for the night; She spies the summer through the winter bud; She tastes the fruit before the blossom falls; She hears the lark within the songless egg; She finds the fountain where they wailed "Mirage!"
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A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.
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A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times.
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Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
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By blood a king, in heart a clown.
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There lives more faith in honest doubt, believe me, than in half the creeds.
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Yonder cloud That rises upward always higher, And onward drags a laboring breast, And topples round the dreary west, A looming bastion fringed with fire.
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God's finger touched him, and he slept.
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In the long years liker they must grow; The man be more of woman, she of man.
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She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room.
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Such a one do I remember, whom to look at was love.