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Nature, they say, doth dote, And cannot make a man Save on some worn-out plan, Repeating us by rote.
James Russell Lowell
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James Russell Lowell
Age: 72 †
Born: 1819
Born: February 22
Died: 1891
Died: August 12
Diplomat
Essayist
Journalist
Literary Critic
Poet
Writer
Cambridge
Massachusetts
Worn
Save
Plan
Plans
Nature
Dote
Cannot
Rote
Make
Repeating
Men
Doth
More quotes by James Russell Lowell
And what they dare to dream of, date to do.
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It is quite too common a practice, both in readers and the more superficial class of critics, to judge a book by what it is not, a matter much easier to determine than what it is.
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Be He nowhere else, God is in all that liberates and lifts, in all that humbles, sweetens, and consoles.
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A stray hair, by its continued irritation, may give more annoyance than a smart blow.
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The sentimentalist does not think of what he does so much as of what the world will think of what he does.
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Ah, men do not know how much strength is in poise, That he goes the farthest who goes far enough.
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Children are God's Apostles, sent forth, day by day, to preach of love, and hope, and peace.
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New occasions teach new duties, time makes ancient good uncouth They must upward still and onward, who would keep abreast of truth.
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A poet must need be before his own age, to be even with posterity
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In life's small things be resolute and great To keep thy muscle trained Know'st thou when Fate Thy measure takes, or when she'll say to thee, I find thee worthy do this deed for me?
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The one thing finished in this hasty world.
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Aspiration sees only one side of every question possession many.
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Communism means barbarism.
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To win the secret of a weed's plain heart.
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The riches of scholarship, the benignities of literature, defy fortune and outlive calamity. They are beyond the reach of thief or moth or rust. As they cannot be inherited, so they cannot, be alienated.
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Never did Poesy appear So full of heaven to me, as when I saw how it would pierce through pride and fear To the lives of coarsest men.
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Our seasons have no fixed returns, Without our will they come and go At noon our sudden summer burns, Ere sunset all is snow.
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Wut 's words to them whose faith an' truth On war's red techstone rang true metal Who ventered life an' love an' youth For the gret prize o' death in battle?
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When I was a beggarly boy, And lived in a cellar damp, I had not a friend nor a toy, But I had Aladdin's lamp.
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A sneer is the weapon of the weak.
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