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The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before Although the loss had brought us pain, That loss but made us love the more.
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
Made
Loss
Outward
Love
Type
Stillness
Pain
Unknown
Left
Breathing
Past
Affection
Stills
Although
Still
Brought
Heart
Became
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Better not to be at all Than not to be noble.
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The dirty nurse, Experience, in her kind Hath fouled me.
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If I make dark my countenance, I shut my life from happier chance.
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It is unconceivable that the whole Universe was merely created for us who live in this third-rate planet of a third-rate moon.
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I know transplanted human worth will bloom to profit otherwhere.
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Follow the deer? Follow the Christ the King. Live pure, speak true,right wrong, Follow the King-- Else, wherefore born?
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And others' follies teach us not, Nor much their wisdom teaches, And most, of sterling worth, is what Our own experience preaches.
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O hark,O hear! how thin and clear And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
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Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.
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Better not be at all than not be noble.
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Man is the hunter women are the game those sleek and shining creatures of the chase. We hunt them for the beauty of their skins they love us for it, and we ride them down.
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Science grows and Beauty dwindles.
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The parting of a husband and wife is like the cleaving of a heart one half will flutter here, one there.
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Of old sat Freedom on the heights The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights She heard the torrents meet.
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Tho' much is taken, much abides.
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Lady, for indeed I loved you and I deemed you beautiful, I cannot brook to see your beauty marred Through evil spite: and if ye love me not, I cannot bear to dream you so forsworn: I had liefer ye were worthy of my love, Than to be loved again of you - farewell And though ye kill my hope, not yet my love, Vex not yourself: ye will not see me more.
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Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new, That which they have done but earnest of the things which they shall do.
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The thrall in person may be free in soul
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Who is this? And what is here? And in the lighted palace near Died the sound of royal cheer And they crossed themselves for fear, All the Knights at Camelot But Lancelot mused a little space He said, She has a lovely face God in his mercy lend her grace, The Lady of Shalott.
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'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Alfred Lord Tennyson