Ralph Waldo Emerson Quotes
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And when his hours are numbered, and the world Is all his own, retiring, as he were not, Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work, The frolic architecture of the snow.
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All mankind love a lover.
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Thou animated torrid-zone.
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People seem not to see that their opinion of the world is also a confession of character.
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It is a fact often observed, that men have written good verses under the inspiration of passion, who cannot write well under other circumstances.
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Born for success he seemed, With grace to win, with heart to hold, With shining gifts that took all eyes.
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People disparage knowing and the intellectual life, and urge doing. I am content with knowing, if only I could know.
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Every particular in nature, a leaf, a drop, a crystal, a moment of time is related to the whole, and partakes of the perfection of the whole.
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Language is the archives of history … Language is fossil poetry.
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People with great gifts are easy to find, but symmetrical and balanced ones never.
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I find the Englishman to be him of all men who stands firmest in his shoes. They have in themselves what they value in their horses, - mettle and bottom.
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We cannot overstate our debt to the Past, but the moment has the supreme claim. The Past is for us; but the sole terms on which it can become ours are its subordination to the Present. Only an inventor knows how to borrow, and every man is or should be an inventor. We must not tamper with the organic motion of the soul.
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I hung my verse in the wind Time and tide their faults will find.
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We boil at different degrees.
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Trust your instinct to the end, though you can render no reason.
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It is the quality of the moment, not the number of days, or events, or of actors, that imports.
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In different hours, a man represents each of several of his ancestors, as if there were seven or eight of us rolled up in each man's skin, - seven or eight ancestors at least, - and they constitute the variety of notes for that new piece of music which his life is.
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We find delight in the beauty and happiness of children that makes the heart too big for the body.
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There is an optical illusion about every person we meet.
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The search after the great men is the dream of youth, and the most serious occupation of manhood.
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If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore, and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile.
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Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, Nor time unmake what poets know.
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There is properly no history; only biography.
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As we grow old, the beauty steals inward.