Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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And common is the commonplace, And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
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Ah, Christ, that it were possible, For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.
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O earth, what changes hast thou seen!
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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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A smile abroad is often a scowl at home.
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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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Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
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The quiet sense of something lost.
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Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
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The time draws near the birth of Christ; The moon is hid; the night is still; The Christmas bells from hill to hill Answer each other in the mist.
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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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The woods decay, the woods decay and fall.
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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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Like a dog, he hunts in dreams.
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In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold.
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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 woods are hush'd, their music is no more; The leaf is dead, the yearning past away; New leaf, new life--the days of frost are o'er; New life, new love, to suit the newer day: New loves are sweet as those that went before: Free love--free field--we love but while we may.
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The same words conceal and declare the thoughts of men.
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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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Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering, 'It will be happier.'
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God's finger touched him, and he slept.
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She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room.
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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.