Quotes
Quotes - Coleridge
Remorse is as the heart in which it grows; If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews Of true repentance; but if proud and gloomy, It is the poison tree, that pierced to the inmost, Weeps only tears of poison.
O! lady, we receive but what we give, And in our life alone doth nature live; Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud!
That passage is what I call the sublime dashed to pieces by cutting too close with the fiery four-in-hand round the corner of nonsense.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree; Where Alph, the sacred river ran, Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.
Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, Whether the summer clothe the general earth With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch Smokes in the sunthaw; whether the eve-drops fall, Heard only in the trances of the blast, Of if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining to the quiet moon.
Our myriad-minded Shakespeare.
For why drives on that ship so fast, Without or wave or wind? The air is cut away before, And closes from behind.
And they three passed over the white sands, between the rocks, silent as the shadows.
Silence is a friend who will never betray.
O sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole! To Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven That slid into my soul.
Visit her, gentle Sleep! with wings of healing, And may this storm be but a mountain-birth, May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling, Silent as though they watched the sleeping Earth!
Her very frowns are fairer far Than smiles of other maidens are.
The knight's bones are dust, And his good sword rust; His soul is with the saints, I trust.
Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide, wide sea.
So lonely 'twas that God himself Scarce seemed there to be.
The soul of man is larger than the sky, Deeper than ocean, or the abysmal dark Of the unfathomed centre.
A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
And the spring comes slowly up this way.
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning-star In his steep course?
Or soar aloft to be the spangled skies And gaze upon her with a thousand eyes.
I have seen gross intolerance shown in support of tolerance.
Prose, words in their best order. Poetry, the best words in the best order.
Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot: O Christ! That ever this should be! Yes, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea.
The frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind.
We were young, we were merry, we were very, very wise, And the door stood open at our feast, When there passed us a woman with the West in her eyes, And a man with his back to the East.
