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Virtue!--to be good and just-- Every heart, when sifted well, Is a clot of warmer dust, Mix'd with cunning sparks of hell.
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
Virtue
Wells
Clot
Well
Sifted
Heart
Warmer
Every
Cunning
Good
Sparks
Dust
Hell
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
The woman is so hard Upon the woman.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room
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Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
This world was once a fluid haze of light, Till toward the centre set the starry tides, And eddied into suns, that wheeling cast The planets: then the monster, then the man.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Her eyes are homes of silent prayers.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
It may be that no life is found, Which only to one engine bound Falls off, but cycles always round.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
That man's the true Conservative who lops the moldered branch away.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The woman's cause is man's. They rise or sink Together. / Dwarf'd or godlike, bound or free miserable, / How shall men grow? - Let her be / All that not harms distinctive womanhood.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips.
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
A pasty costly-made, Where quail and pigeon, lark and leveret lay, Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks Imbedded and injellied.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
And by the meadow-trenches blow the faint sweet cuckoo-flowers.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Courtesy wins woman all as well. As valor may, but he that closes both is perfect.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Not once or twice in our rough island story, The path of duty was the way to glory.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
So sad, so fresh the days that are no more.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Sweet is true love that is given in vain, and sweet is death that takes away pain.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Love will conquer at the last.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
