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Crystal sincerity hath found no shelter but in a fool's cap.

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
Caps
Crystals
Shelter
Sincerity
Hath
Fool
Found
Crystal

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The effect of studying masterpieces is to make me admire and do otherwise.
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Our Lord Jesus Christ , my brethren, is our hero, a hero all the world wants.
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I do not write for the public. You are my public and I hope to convert you.
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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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The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
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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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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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I am all at once what Christ is, ' since he was what I am, and This Jack, joke, poor potsherd, ' patch, matchwood, immortal diamond, Is immortal diamond.
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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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That piecemeal peace is poor peace. What pure peace allows Alarms of wars, the daunting wars, the death of it?
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NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be.
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Summer ends now now, barbarous in beauty, the Stooks arise Around up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behavior Of silk-sack clouds! Has wilder, willful-waiver Meal-drift molded ever and melted across skies?
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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!
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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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Your personal boundaries protect the inner core of your identity and your right to choices.
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Nothing is so beautiful as spring- When weeds in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush.
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Birds buildbut not I build no, but strain, Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes. Mine,O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
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Beauty is a relation, and the apprehension of it a comparison.
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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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Give beauty back, beauty, beauty, beauty, back to God, beauty's self and beauty's giver.
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