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Weep bitterly over the dead, for he is worthy, and then comfort thyself drive heaviness away: thou shall not do him good, but hurt thyself.
Matthew Arnold
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Matthew Arnold
Age: 65 †
Born: 1822
Born: December 24
Died: 1888
Died: April 15
Journalist
Literary Critic
Poet
School Inspector
University Teacher
Writer
Laleham
Surrey
Comfort
Dead
Bitterly
Shall
Heaviness
Hurt
Weep
Away
Thyself
Good
Drive
Thou
Worthy
More quotes by Matthew Arnold
Nor bring, to see me cease to live, Some doctor full of phrase and fame, To shake his sapient head, and give The ill he cannot cure a name.
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Come, dear children, let us away Down and away below!
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Life is not having and getting, but being and becoming
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Nothing could moderate, in the bosom of the great English middle class, their passionate, absorbing, almost blood-thirsty clinging to life.
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And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, / Self-schooled, self-scanned, self-honoured, self-secure / Didst tread on earth unguessed at. Better so!.
Matthew Arnold
If Paris that brief flight allow, My humble tomb explore! It bears: Eternity, be thou My refuge! and no more.
Matthew Arnold
Like driftwood spares which meet and pass Upon the boundless ocean-plain, So on the sea of life, alas! Man nears man, meets, and leaves again.
Matthew Arnold
To have the sense of creative activity is the great happiness and the great proof of being alive.
Matthew Arnold
Let the long contention cease! / Geese are swans, and swans are geese.
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Know, man hath all which Nature hath, but more, And in that more lie all his hopes of good.
Matthew Arnold
For poetry the idea is everything the rest is a world of illusion.
Matthew Arnold
Joy comes and goes, hope ebbs and flows Like the wave Change doth unknit the tranquil strength of men. Love tends life a little grace, A few sad smiles and then, Both are laid in one cold place, In the grave.
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Use your gifts faithfully, and they shall be enlarged practice what you know, and you shall attain to higher knowledge.
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To hear the world applaud the hollow ghost Which blamed the living man.
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Who hesitate and falter life away, and lose tomorrow the ground won today.
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Grey time-worn marbles Hold the pure Muses. In their cool gallery, By yellow Tiber, They still look fair.
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Where great whales come sailing by, Sail and sail, with unshut eye, Round the world for ever and aye.
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On Sundays, at the matin-chime, The Alpine peasants, two and three, Climb up here to pray Burghers and dames, at summer's prime, Ride out to church from Chamberry, Dight with mantles gay, But else it is a lonely time Round the Church of Brou.
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Coleridge: poet and philosopher wrecked in a mist of opium.
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Nature, with equal mind, Sees all her sons at play, Sees man control the wind, The wind sweep man away.
Matthew Arnold