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And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens, Are singing the selfsame strain.

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
Wind
Pain
Gladdens
Selfsame
Saddens
Strain
Sea
Singing

More quotes by Bayard Taylor

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By wisdom wealth is won but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.
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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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Labor, you know, is prayer.
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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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Really,' thought I, 'we call Baltimore the 'Monumental City' for its two marble columns, and here is Edinburg with one at every street-corner!
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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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The maxims tell you to aim at perfection, which is well but it's unattainable, all the same.
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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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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.
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Eccentricity is developed monomania.
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Peace the offspring is of Power.
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Love's humility is love's true pride.
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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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Sweeter than the stolen kiss Are the granted kisses
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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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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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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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Love is better than Fame.
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But still I dream that somewhere there must be The spirit of a child that waits for me.
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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.
Bayard Taylor