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I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent This night!
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
Spent
Dark
Hours
Black
Night
Feel
Insomnia
Feels
Fell
Wake
More quotes by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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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As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame
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The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed.
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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.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
That piecemeal peace is poor peace. What pure peace allows Alarms of wars, the daunting wars, the death of it?
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What is all this juice and all this joy?
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To lift up the hands in prayer gives God glory, but a man with a dungfork in his hand, a woman with a slop pail, give Him glory, too. God is so great that all things give Him glory if you mean that they should.
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Religion, you know, enters very deep in reality it is the deepest impression I have in speaking to people, that they are or that they are not of my religion.
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And for all this, nature is never spent There lives the dearest freshness deep down things And though the last lights off the black West went Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs— Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
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For myself I make no secret, I look forward with eager desire to seeing the matchless beauty of Christ's body in the heavenly light.
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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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Crystal sincerity hath found no shelter but in a fool's cap.
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Nothing is so beautiful as spring- When weeds in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
I awoke in the Midsummer not-to-call night, in the white and the walk of the morning
Gerard Manley Hopkins
For Christ plays in ten thousand places,/ Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his/ To the Father through the features of men’s faces.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
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.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
Every true poet, I thought, must be original and originality a condition of poetic genius so that each poet is like a species in nature (not an individuum genericum or specificum ) and can never recur. That nothing shd. be old or borrowed however cannot be.
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When I compare myself, my being-myself, with anything else whatever, all things alike, all in the same degree, rebuff me with blank unlikeness.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
I do not write for the public. You are my public and I hope to convert you.
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