Quote

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.

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
Free
Tune
Light
Tunes
Flying
Clouds
Across
Wintry
Sea
Shrouds
Moon
Misty
Wind
Foam

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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 Prophet's words were true The mouth of Ali is the golden door Of Wisdom. When his friends to Ali bore These words, he smiled and said: And should they ask The same until my dying day, the task Were easy for the stream from Wisdom's well, Which God supplies, is inexhaustible.
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Swelling in anger or sparkling in glee.
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And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens, Are singing the selfsame strain.
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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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The most annoying of all blockheads is a well-read fool.
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The native Jewish families in Jerusalem, as well as those in other parts of Palestine, present a marked difference to the Jews of Europe and America. They possess the same physical characteristics - the dark, oblong eye, the prominent nose, the strongly-marked cheek and jaw - but in the latter, these traits have become harsh and coarse.
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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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Eccentricity is developed monomania.
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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.
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Love is better than Fame.
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Sweeter than the stolen kiss Are the granted kisses
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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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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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Learn to live, and live to learn, Ignorance like a fire doth burn, Little tasks make large return.
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Opportunity is rare, and a wise man will never let it go by him.
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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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Higher than the perfect song For which love longeth, Is the tender fear of wrong, That never wrongeth.
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Peace the offspring is of Power.
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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.
Bayard Taylor