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He that wrongs a friend Wrongs himself more, and ever bears about A silent court of justice in his breast, Himself the judge and jury, and himself The prisoner at the bar ever condemned.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Alfred Lord Tennyson
Age: 83 †
Born: 1809
Born: August 6
Died: 1892
Died: October 6
Poet
Politician
Writer
Somersby
Lincolnshire
Alfred Tennyson
1st Baron Tennyson
Lord Alfred Tennyson
Alcibiades
A. Tennyson
Alfred Tennyson
Baron Tennyson
Alfred Tennyson Tennyson
Tennyson
1st Baron Tennyson of Aldworth and Freshwater Alfred Tennyson
Alfred Tennyson d'Eyncourt
Lord Tennyson Alfred
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Alfred
Lord Tennyson
Silence
Bars
Justice
Judge
Ever
Silent
Wrongs
Judging
Condemned
Court
Jury
Bears
Breast
Friendship
Prisoner
Friend
Breasts
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
What rights are those that dare not resist for them?
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Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt.
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I am going a long way With these thou seëst-if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt)- To the island-valley of Avilion, Where falls not hail or rain or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly but it lies Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
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No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.
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If Nature put not forth her power About the opening of the flower, Who is it that could live an hour?
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How fares it with the happy dead?
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The thrall in person may be free in soul
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To me He is all fault who hath no fault at all: For who loves me must have a touch of earth.
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The jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honor feels.
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What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.
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Her court was pure, her life serene God gave her peace her land reposed A thousand claims to reverence closed.
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Any man that walks the mead In bud, or blade, or bloom, may find, According as his humors lead, A meaning suited to his mind.
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Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of: Wherefore, let they voice, Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
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I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul
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The noonday quiet holds the hill.
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The folly of all follies is to be love sick for a shadow.
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Faith is believing what we cannot prove.
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A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier times.
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There's no glory like those who save their country.
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The greater man the greater courtesy.
Alfred Lord Tennyson