Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.
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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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Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.
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Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering, 'It will be happier.'
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She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room.
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I heard no longer The snowy-banded, dilettante, Delicate-handed priest intone.
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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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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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Authority forgets a dying king.
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By blood a king, in heart a clown.
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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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A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.
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The woman is so hard Upon the woman.
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For I dipped into the future, far as human eye could see, Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.
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Life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom, And heated hot with burning fears, And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd with the shocks of doom, To shape and use.
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Every man at time of Death, Would fain set forth some saying that may live After his death and better humankind; For death gives life's last word a power to live, And, lie the stone-cut epitaph, remain After the vanished voice, and speak to 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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The same words conceal and declare the thoughts of men.
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A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times.
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Ah, when shall all men's good Be each man's rule, and universal peace Lie like a shaft of light across the land, And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, Thro' all the circle of the golden year?
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God gives us love! Something to love He lends us; but when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone: This is the curse of time.
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Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of: Wherefore, let they voice, Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
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Lo! sweeten'd with the summer light, The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow, Drops in a silent autumn night. All its allotted length of days The flower ripens in its place, Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil, Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
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And oft I heard the tender dove In firry woodlands making moan.