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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
Thorough
Thoroughly
Self
Great
Believe
Things
More quotes by Alfred Lord Tennyson
And every dew-drop paints a bow.
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But every page having an ample marge, And every marge enclosing in the midst A square of text that looks a little blot.
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That man's the best cosmopolite Who loves his native country best.
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Behold, we know not anything I can but trust that good shall fall At last-far off-at last, to all, And every winter change to spring.
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Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.
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For always roaming with a hungry heart.
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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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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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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.
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Our wills are ours, we know not how Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
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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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Once in a golden hour, I cast to earth a seed, And up there grew a flower, That others called a weed.
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Man is man, and master of his fate.
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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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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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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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The dirty nurse, Experience, in her kind Hath fouled me.
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It was my duty to have loved the highest It surely was my profit had I known: It would have been my pleasure had I seen. We needs must love the highest when we see it, Not Lancelot, nor another.
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The long mechanic pacings to and fro, The set, gray life, and apathetic end.
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I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.
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