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A louse in the locks of literature.
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
Louse
Locks
Critics
Criticism
Literature
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Who is wise in love, love most, say least.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
So I find every pleasant spot In which we two were wont to meet, The field, the chamber, and the street, For all is dark where thou art not
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nor is it wiser to weep a true occasion lost, but trim our sails, and let old bygones be.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Silence, beautiful voice.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I loved you, and my love had no return, And therefore my true love has been my death.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Men may come and men may go but I go on forever.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
He is all fault who has no fault at all.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Sweet were the days when I was all unknown, But when my name was lifted up, the storm Brake on the mountain and I cared not for it. Right well know I that fame is half disfame.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
No rock so hard but that a little wave may beat admission in a thousand years.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Earth is dry to the centre, But spring, a new comer, A spring rich and strange, Shall make the winds blow Round and round, Thro' and thro', Here and there, Till the air And the ground Shall be fill'd with life anew.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
My life has crept so long on a broken wing Through cells of madness, haunts of horror and fear, That I come to be grateful at last for a little thing.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
For every worm beneath the moon Draws different threads, and late and soon Spins, toiling out his own cocoon.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
My doom is, I love thee still. Let no man dream but that I love thee still.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
For always roaming with a hungry heart.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
So now I have sworn to bury All this dead body of hate I feel so free and so clear By the loss of that dead weight
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ours is not to wonder why. Ours is just to do or die.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
