Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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And every dew-drop paints a bow.
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Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills. Like footsteps upon wool.
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I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone.
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Faith is believing what we cannot prove.
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Better not be at all than not be noble.
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The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
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O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
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Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower-but if I could understand What you are, root and all, all in all, I should know what God and man is.
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A louse in the locks of literature.
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Tis a morning pure and sweet, And a dewy splendour falls On the little flower that clings To the turrets and the walls; 'Tis a morning pure and sweet, And the light and shadow fleet; She is walking in the meadow, And the woodland echo rings; In a moment we shall meet; She is singing in the meadow, And the rivulet at her feet Ripples on in light and shadow To the ballad that she sings.
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The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself.
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Be near me when my light is low... And all the wheels of being slow.
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Ring out the false, ring in the true.
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Every man, for the sake of the great blessed Mother in Heaven, and for the love of his own little mother on earth, should handle all womankind gently, and hold them in all Honor.
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O Love! what hours were thine and mine, In lands of palm and southern pine; In lands of palm, of orange – blossom, Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine!
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A truth looks freshest in the fashions of the day.
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It was my duty to have loved the highest; It surely was my profit had I known: It would have been my pleasure had I seen. We needs must love the highest when we see it, Not Lancelot, nor another.
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To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
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From yon blue heaven above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent.
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O Love! they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying! And answer, echoes, answer! dying, dying, dying.
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What's up is faith, what's down is heresy.
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Never, oh! never, nothing will die; The stream flows, The wind blows, The cloud fleets, The heart beats, Nothing will die.
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And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!
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Jewels five-words-long, That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever.