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The lamp you lighted in the olden time Will show you my heart's-blood beating through the rhyme: A poet's journal, writ in fire and tears... Then slow deliverance, with the gaps of years.

Bayard Taylor

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Bayard Taylor
Age: 53 †
Born: 1825
Born: January 11
Died: 1878
Died: December 19
Critic
Diplomat
Explorer
Journalist
Literary Critic
Novelist
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
Show
Journal
Olden
Shows
Gaps
Writ
Heart
Slow
Lighted
Years
Tears
Deliverance
Time
Poet
Lamp
Poetry
Lamps
Blood
Beating
Fire
Rhyme

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Love is better than Fame.
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Those who would attain to any marked degree of excellence in a chosen pursuit must work, and work hard for it, prince or peasant.
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I cannot assume emotions I do not feel, and must describe Jerusalem as I found it. Since being here, I have read the accounts of several travellers, and in many cases the devotional rhapsodies - the ecstacies of awe and reverence - in which they indulge, strike me as forced and affected.
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Higher than the perfect song For which love longeth, Is the tender fear of wrong, That never wrongeth.
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I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die.
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Opportunity is rare, and a wise man will never let it go by him.
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Peace the offspring is of Power.
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I was pleasantly disappointed on entering Bohemia. Instead of a dull, uninteresting country, as I expected, it is a land full of the most lovely scenery. There is every thing which can gratify the eye - high blue mountains, valleys of the sweetest pastoral look and romantic old ruins.
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An enthusiastic desire of visiting the Old World haunted me from early childhood. I cherished a presentiment, amounting almost to belief, that I should one day behold the scenes, among which my fancy had so long wandered.
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We follow and race In shifting chase, Over the boundless ocean-space! Who hath beheld when the race begun? Who shall behold it run?
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By wisdom wealth is won but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.
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Above Coblentz almost every mountain has a ruin and a legend. One feels everywhere the spirit of the past, and its stirring recollections come back upon the mind with irresistible force.
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Women are not apt to be won by the charms of verse.
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Sometimes an hour of Fate's serenest weather Strikes through our changeful sky its coming beams Somewhere above us, in elusive ether, Waits the fulfilment of our dearest dreams.
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Swelling in anger or sparkling in glee.
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There may come a day Which crowns Desire with gift, and Art with truth, And Love with bliss, and Life with wiser youth!
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And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens, Are singing the selfsame strain.
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He teaches best, Who feels the hearts of all men in his breast, And knows their strength or weakness through his own.
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The healing of the world is in its nameless saints. Each separate star seems nothing, but a myriad scattered stars break up the night and make it beautiful.
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Although Damascus is considered the oldest city in the world, the date of its foundation going beyond tradition, there are very few relics of antiquity in or near it.
Bayard Taylor