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As a god self-slain on his own strange altar, Death lies dead.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Algernon Charles Swinburne
Age: 72 †
Born: 1837
Born: April 5
Died: 1909
Died: April 10
Literary Critic
Poet
Writer
London
England
Algernon Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Algernon Charles Swiburne
Dead
Strange
Lying
Death
Self
Slain
Altar
Altars
Lies
More quotes by Algernon Charles Swinburne
We, drinking love at the furthest springs, Covered with love as a covering tree, We had grown as gods, as the gods above, Filled from the heart to the lips with love, Held fast in his hands, clothed warm with his wings, O love, my love, had you loved but me!
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Love is more cruel than lust.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
For words divide and rend But silence is most noble till the end.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
The delight that consumes the desire, The desire that outruns the delight.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
There is no God found stronger than death and death is a sleep.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
The highest spiritual quality, the noblest property of mind a man can have, is this of loyalty.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
God's own hand Holds fast all issues of our deeds: with him The end of all our ends is, but with us Our ends are, just or unjust: though our works Find righteous or unrighteous judgment, this At least is ours, to make them righteous.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Time stoops to no man's lure.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
The more congenial page of some tenth-rate poeticule worn out with failure after failure and now squat in his hole like the tailless fox, he is curled up to snarl and whimper beneath the inaccessible vine of song.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Change lays not her hand upon truth.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
I dore not always touch her, lest the kiss Leave my lips charred. Yea, Lord, a little bliss, Brief, bitter bliss, one hath for a great sin Nathless thou knowest how sweet a thing it is.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
I am tired of tears and laughter, And men that laugh and weep Of what may come hereafter For men that sow to reap: I am weary of days and hours, Blown buds of barren flowers, Desires and dreams and powers And everything but sleep.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Stately, kindly, lordly friend Condescend Here to sit by me.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
There grows No herb of help to heal a coward heart.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
If love were what the rose is, And I were like the leaf, Our lives would grow together In sad or singing weather.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Today will die tomorrow.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Sleep and if life was bitter to thee, pardon, If sweet, give thanks thou hast no more to live And to give thanks is good, and to forgive.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
Is not Precedent indeed a King of men? A Word from the Psalmist.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
I have lived long enough, having seen one thing, that love hath an end
Algernon Charles Swinburne
His speech is a burning fire.
Algernon Charles Swinburne
