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All things therefore are charged with love, are charged with God and if we knew how to touch them give off sparks and take fire, yield drops and flow, ring and tell of him.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

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Gerard Manley Hopkins
Age: 45 †
Born: 1844
Born: June 28
Died: 1889
Died: July 8
Poet
Writer
London
England
Hopkins
Giving
Touch
Things
Flow
Love
Therefore
Charged
Knew
Drops
Fire
Sparks
Tell
Ring
Give
Yield
Take
Rings

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I hold with the old-fashioned criticism that Browning is not really a poet, that he has all the gifts but the one needful and the pearls without the string rather one should say raw nuggets and rough diamonds.
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Our Lord Jesus Christ , my brethren, is our hero, a hero all the world wants.
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Do you know, a horrible thing has happened to me. I have begun to doubt Tennyson.
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Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend With thee but, sir, so what I plead is just. Why do sinners' ways prosper? and why must Disappointment all I endeavour end?
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No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
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Nothing is so beautiful as spring - when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.
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As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame
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Beauty is a relation, and the apprehension of it a comparison.
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I awoke in the Midsummer not-to-call night, in the white and the walk of the morning
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Natural heart's ivy, Patience masks Our ruins of wrecked past purpose.
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Crystal sincerity hath found no shelter but in a fool's cap.
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And the headbonny ash that sits over the burn. What would the world be, once bereft Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left, O Let them be left, wildness and wet: Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.
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I have desired to go Where springs not fail, To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail And a few lilies blow.
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Let Him easter in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresseted east.
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I thought how sadly beauty of inscape was unknown and buried away from simple people and yet how near at hand it was if they had eyes to see it and it could be called out everywhere again.
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My own heart let me more have pity on let Me live to my sad self hereafter kind, Charitable not live this tormented mind With this tormented mind tormenting yet.
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Searching nature I taste self but at one tankard, that of my own being.
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For I think it is the case with genius that it is not when quiescent so very much above mediocrity as the difference between the two might lead us to think, but that it has the power and privilege of rising from that level to a height utterly far from mediocrity: in other words that its greatness is that it can be so great.
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