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As I toiled up the Mount of Olives, in the very footsteps of Christ, panting with the heat and the difficult ascent, I found it utterly impossible to conceive that the Deity, in human form, had walked there before me.

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
Difficult
Deities
Found
Footsteps
Form
Conceive
Toiled
Human
Utterly
Panting
Humans
Walked
Olives
Heat
Ascent
Impossible
Mount
Christ
Deity

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I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die.
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Departed suns their trails of splendor drew Across departed summers: whispers came From voices, long ago resolved again Into the primeval Silence, and we twain, Ghosts of our present selves, yet still the same, As in a spectral mirror wandered there.
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From the desert I come to thee, On a stallion shod with fire And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire.
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The most annoying of all blockheads is a well-read fool.
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Love's humility is love's true pride.
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Peace the offspring is of Power.
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Labor, you know, is prayer.
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Could one live on the sense of beauty alone, exempt from the necessity of 'creature comforts,' a sea-voyage would be delightful.
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By wisdom wealth is won but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.
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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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Sweeter than the stolen kiss Are the granted kisses
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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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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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Fame is what you have taken, / Character's what you give / When to this truth you waken, / Then you begin to live.
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The clouds are scudding across the moon, A misty light is on the sea The wind in the shrouds has a wintry tune, And the foam is flying free.
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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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Swelling in anger or sparkling in glee.
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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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Life lives only in success.
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It is an agreeable and yet a painful sense of novelty to stand for the first time in the midst of a people whose language and manners are different from one's own.
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