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Too much wit makes the world rotten.
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
Rotten
Wit
Makes
Much
World
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Who loves not Knowledge? Who shall rail Against her beauty? May she mix With men and prosper! Who shall fix Her pillars? Let her work prevail.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
What! I should call on that Infinite Love that has served us so well? Infinite cruelty rather, that made everlasting hell, Made us, foreknew us, foredoom'd us, and does what he will with his own Better our dead brute mother who never has heard us groan.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Ah, when shall all men's good Be each man's rule, and universal peace Lie like a shaft of light across the land, And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, Thro' all the circle of the golden year?
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Faith is believing what we cannot prove.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Life is not as idle ore, But iron dug from central gloom, And heated hot with burning fears, And dipt in baths of hissing tears, And batter'd with the shocks of doom, To shape and use.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peaceSleep, holy spirit, blessed soul,While the stars burn, the moons increase,And the great ages onward roll. Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feetLie still, dry dust, secure of change.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Name and fame! to fly sublime Through the courts, the camps, the schools Is to be the ball of Time, Bandied in the hands of fools.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills. Like footsteps upon wool.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Do we indeed desire the dead Should still be near us at our side ? Is there no baseness we would hide ? No inner vileness that we dread ? How many a father have I seen A sober man, among his boys Whose youth was full of foolish noise.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Nor at all can tell Whether I mean this day to end myself, Or lend an ear to Plato where he says, That men like soldiers may not quit the post Allotted by the Gods.
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
Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, Before a thousand peering littlenesses, In that fierce light which beats upon a throne, And blackens every blot.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Oh for someone with a heart, head and hand. Whatever they call them, what do I care, aristocrat, democrat, autocrat, just be it one that can rule and dare not lie.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The white flower of a blameless life.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love. News from the humming city comes to it It sound of funeral or of marriage bells.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
But while I breathe Heaven's air and Heaven looks down on me, And smiles at my best meanings, I remain Mistress of mine own self and mine own soul.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
