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The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down, and still fluttered down the snow.
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
Winter
Fluttered
Stills
Rails
Still
Softened
Swan
Swans
Stiff
Rail
Snow
More quotes by James Russell Lowell
Stories now, to suit a public taste, must be half epigram, half pleasant vice.
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The rich man's sons inherits cares The bank may break, the factory burn, A breath may burst his bubble shares, And soft, white hands could hardly earn A living that would serve his turn.
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Fashion being the art of those who must purchase notice at some cheaper rate than that of being beautiful, loves to do rash and extravagant things. She must be forever new, or she becomes insipid.
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You've gut to git up airly Ef you want to take in God.
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How I do love the earth. I feel it thrill under my feet. I feel somehow as if it were conscious of my love, as if something passed into my dancing blood from it.
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Once to every man and nation, comes the moment to decide, In the strife of truth with falsehood, for the good or evil side Some great cause, some great decision, offering each the bloom or blight, And the choice goes by forever, ’twixt that darkness and that light.
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Freedom needs all her poets it is they Who give her aspirations wings, And to the wiser law of music sway Her wild imaginings.
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I have always been of the mind that in a democracy manners are the only effective weapons against the bowie-knife.
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Human nature has a much greater genius for sameness than for originality.
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It is the rooted instinct in men to admire what is better and more beautiful than themselves.
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And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light.
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And what they dare to dream of, date to do.
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Suddenly all the sky is hid As with the shutting of a lid, One by one great drops are falling Doubtful and slow, Down the pane they are crookedly crawling, And the wind breathes low Slowly the circles widen on the river, Widen and mingle, one and all Here and there the slenderer flowers shiver, Struck by an icy rain-drop’s fall.
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Christ was the first true democrat that ever breathed, as the old dramatist Dekkar said he was the first true gentleman.
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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.
James Russell Lowell
We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage.
James Russell Lowell
Praise follows truth afar off, and only overtakes her at the grave plausibility clings to her skirts and holds her back till then
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A nature wise With finding in itself the types of all, With watching from the dim verge of the time What things to be are visible in the gleams Thrown forward on them from the luminous past, Wise with the history of its own frail heart, With reverence and sorrow, and with love, Broad as the world, for freedom and for man.
James Russell Lowell
The pine is the mother of legends.
James Russell Lowell
Over our manhood bend the skies Against our fallen and traitor lives The great winds utter prophecies With our faint hearts the mountain strives, Its arms outstretched, the druid wood Waits with its benedicite And to our ages drowsy blood Still shouts the inspiring sea.
James Russell Lowell
