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Thoroughly to believe in one's own self, so one's self were thorough, were to do great things.

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
Great
Believe
Things
Thorough
Thoroughly
Self

More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson

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Who is wise in love, love most, say least.
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A still small voice spake unto me, 'Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be?
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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.
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Our little systems have their day They have their day and cease to be… And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
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Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers Unfaith is aught is want of faith in all.
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Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.
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Woman is the lesser man.
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I am on fire within. There comes no murmur of reply. What is it that will take away my sin, And save me lest I die?
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And men, whose reason long was blind, From cells of madness unconfined, Oft lose whole years of darker mind.
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Love is the only gold.
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Here at the quiet limit of the world.
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The smell of violets, hidden in the green, Pour'd back into my empty soul and frame The times when I remembered to have been Joyful and free from blame.
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You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear To-morrow'll be the happiest time of all the glad New Year,- Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be queen o' the May.
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For this alone on Death I wreak The wrath that garners in my heart: He put our lives so far apart We cannot hear each other speak.
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Forgive! How many will say, forgive, and find a sort of absolution in the sound to hate a little longer!
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I came in haste with cursing breath, And heart of hardest steel But when I saw thee cold in death, I felt as man should feel. For when I look upon that face, That cold, unheeding, frigid brown, Where neither rage nor fear has place, By Heaven! I cannot hate thee now!
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Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
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She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart. The fragrant tresses are not stirr'd That lie upon her charmed heart She sleeps: on either hand upswells The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest: She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest.
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From yon blue heaven above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent.
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I stood on a tower in the wet, And New Year and Old Year met, And winds were roaring and blowing: And I said, O years, that meet in tears, Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? Science enough and exploring, Wanderers coming and going, Matter enough for deploring, But aught that is worth the knowing?
Alfred Lord Tennyson