And malt does more than Milton can To justify God's ways to man.
Who made the world I cannot tell 'Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.
The laws of God, the laws of man he may keep that will and can; not I: let God and man decree laws for themselves and not for me.
Great literature should do some good to the reader: must quicken his perception though dull, and sharpen his discrimination though blunt, and mellow the rawness of his personal opinions.
Even when poetry has a meaning, as it usually has, it may be inadvisable to draw it out... Perfect understanding will sometimes almost extinguish pleasure.
The house of delusions is cheap to build but drafty to live in.
Clay lies still, but blood's a rover; / Breath's a ware that will not keep. / Up, lad; when the journey's over / There'll be time enough for sleep.
White in the moon the long road lies.
Here dead lie we because we did not choose to live and shame the land from which we sprung. Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose; but young men think it is, and we were young.
About the woodlands I will go / To see the cherry hung with snow.
The fairies break their dances / And leave the printed lawn.
And silence sounds no worse than cheers / After death has stopped the ears.
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now / Is hung with bloom along the bough.
My heart always warms to people who do not come to see me, especially Americans, to whom it seems to be more of an effort.
There, like the wind through woods in riot, Through him the gale of life blew high; The tree of man was never quiet: Then 'twas the Roman, now 'tis I.
Here dead we lie because we did not choose To live and shame the land from which we sprung. Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose; But young men think it is, and we were young.
The most important truth which has ever been uttered, and the greatest discovery ever made in the moral world.
The difference between an icicle and a red-hot poker is really much slighter than the difference between truth and falsehood or sense and nonsense; yet it is much more immediately noticeable and much more universally noticed, because the body is more sensitive than the mind.
Nature, not content with denying him the ability to think, has endowed him with the ability to write.
The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers Stream from the hawthorn on the wind away, The doors clap to, the pane is blind with showers. Pass me the can, lad; there's an end of May.
Three minutes' thought would suffice to find this out; but thought is irksome and three minutes is a long time.
To-day, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high, we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town.
Happy bridegroom, Hesper brings All desired and timely things. All whom morning sends to roam, Hesper loves to lead them home. Home return who him behold, Child to mother, sheep to fold, Bird to nest from wandering wide: Happy bridegroom, seek your bride.
Experience has taught me, when I am shaving of a morning, to keep watch over my thoughts, because, if a line of poetry strays into my memory, my skin bristles so that the razor ceases to act.
Ale, man, ale's the stuff to drink for fellows whom it hurts to think.