Quote

The New World's sons from England's breast we drew Such milk as bids remember whence we came, Proud of her past wherefrom our future grew, This window we inscribe with Raleigh's fame.

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
World
England
Whence
Fame
Drew
Proud
Breast
Grew
Sons
Came
Breasts
Future
Milk
Inscribe
Past
Son
Raleigh
Remember
Window
Bids

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The quiet tenderness of Chaucer, where you almost seem to hear the hot tears falling, and the simple choking words sobbed out.
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Who is it needs such flawless shafts as fate? What archer of his arrows is so choice, or hits the white so surely?
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Who knows whither the clouds have fled? In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, The heart forgets its sorrow and ache.
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The snow had begun in the gloaming, and busily all the night had been heaping field and highway with a silence deep and white.
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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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What visionary tints the year puts on, When falling leaves falter through motionless air Or numbly cling and shiver to be gone! How shimmer the low flats and pastures bare, As with her nectar Hebe Autumn fills The bowl between me and those distant hills, And smiles and shakes abroad her misty, tremulous hair!
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I tell ye wut, my judgment is you're pooty sure to fail, Ez long 'z the head keeps turnin' back for counsel to the the tail.
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Like streams that keep a summer mind Snow-hid in Jenooary.
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Good luck is the willing handmaid of upright, energetic character, and conscientious observance of duty.
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A sneer is the weapon of the weak. Like other devil's weapons, it is always cunningly ready to our hand, and there is more poison in the handle than in the point.
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A weed is no more than a flower in disguise, Which is seen through at once, if love give a man eyes.
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Behind the dim unknown, Standeth God with the shadow, keeping watch above his own.
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Blessed are they who have nothing to say and who cannot be persuaded to say it.
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All thoughtful men are solitary and original in themselves.
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A poet must need be before his own age, to be even with posterity
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Who speaks the truth stabs falsehood to the heart.
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The green grass floweth like a stream Into the oceans's blue.
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To be young is surely the best, if the most precarious, gift of life.
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It is curious how tyrannical the habit of reading is, and what shifts we make to escape thinking. There is no bore we dread being left alone with so much as our own minds.
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I who still pray at morning and at eve Thrice in my life perhaps have truly prayed, Thrice stirred below conscious self Have felt that perfect disenthrallment which is God.
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