Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, so hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.
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Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, oh sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.
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Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
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Happy days roll onward leading up to golden years.
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Those who depend on the merits of their ancestors may be said to search in the roots of the tree for those fruits which the branches ought to produce.
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Evolution ever climbing after some ideal good, And Reversion ever dragging Evolution in the mud.
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And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.
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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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I wind about, and in and out, – With here a blossom sailing, – And here and there a lusty trout, – And here and there a grayling.
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It is unconceivable that the whole Universe was merely created for us who live in this third-rate planet of a third-rate moon.
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And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.
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For this is England's greatest son, He that gain'd a hundred fights, And never lost an English gun.
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O Blackbird! sing me something well: While all the neighbors shoot thee round, I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground, Where thou may'st warble, eat and dwell.
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Love's too precious to be lost, A little grain shall not be spilt.
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A beam in darkness: let it grow.
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Shall love be blamed for want of faith?
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She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd That lie upon her charmed heart She sleeps: on either hand upswells The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest: She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest.
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A classic lecture, rich in sentiment, With scraps of thundrous Epic lilted out By violet-hooded Doctors, elegies And quoted odes, and jewels five-words-long, That on the stretched forefinger of all Time Sparkle for ever.
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The voice of the dead was a living voice to me.
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All things human change.
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We are self-uncertain creatures, and we may Yea, even when we know not, mix our spites And private hates with our defence of Heaven.
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How fares it with the happy dead?
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Where love could walk with banish'd, Hope no more.
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Let observation with extended observation observe extensively.