Quote

From henceforth thou shalt learn that there is love To long for, pureness to desire, a mount Of consecration it were good to scale.

Jean Ingelow

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Jean Ingelow
Age: 77 †
Born: 1820
Born: March 17
Died: 1897
Died: July 20
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Boston
England
Orris
Scales
Thou
Learn
Pureness
Desire
Henceforth
Long
Consecration
Good
Shalt
Love
Mount
Life
Scale

More quotes by Jean Ingelow

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There is but halting for the wearied foot The better way is hidden. Faith hath failed One stronger far than reason mastered her. It is not reason makes faith hard, but life.
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Such a slender moon, going up and up, Waxing so fast from night to night, And swelling like an orange flower-bud, bright, Fated, methought, to round as to a golden cup, And hold to my two lips life's best of wine.
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Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.
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A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life.
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Reign, and keep life in this our deep desireOur only greatness is that we aspire.
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I don't want to die. But I want to be dead.
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What is thy thought? There is no miracle? There is a great one, which thou hast not read, And never shalt escape. Thyself, O man, Thou art the miracle. Ay, thou thyself, Being in the world and of the world, thyself, Hast breathed in breath from Him that made the world. Thou art thy Father's copy of Himself,-- Thou art thy Father's miracle.
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Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes! they turn, like marigolds, toward the sunny side.
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O woman! thou wert fashioned to beguile: So have all sages said, all poets sung.
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It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.
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Work is its own best earthly meed, Else have we none more than the sea-born throng Who wrought those marvellous isles that bloom afar.
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And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.
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we wish for more in life rather than more of it.
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O sleep! O sleep! Do not forget me. Sometimes come and sweep, Now I have nothing left, thy healing hand Over the lids that crave thy visits bland, Thou kind, thou comforting one. For I have seen his face, as I desired, And all my story is done. O, I am tired.
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I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
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What change has made the pastures sweet And reached the daisies at my feet, And cloud that wears a golden hem? This lovely world, the hills, the sward-- They all look fresh, as if our Lord But yesterday had finished them.
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There's no dew left on the daisies and clover there's no rain left in heaven.
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I am glad to think I am not bound to make the world go right, but only to discover and to do, with cheerful heart, the work that God appoints.
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When I remember something which I had, But which is gone, and I must do without, I sometimes wonder how I can be glad, Even in cowslip time when hedges sprout It makes me sigh to think on it,--but yet My days will not be better days, should I forget.
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People newly emerged from obscurity generally launch out into indiscriminate display.
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