Quote

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.

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
Little
Joy
Tends
Men
Grace
Laid
Love
Goes
Grave
Life
Hope
Graves
Ebbs
Like
Comes
Wave
Tranquil
Place
Flow
Doth
Change
Strength
Smiles
Littles
Cold
Flows

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Hither and thither spins The wind-borne mirroring soul, A thousand glimpses wins, And never sees a whole.
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The grand stye arises in poetry, when a noble nature, poetically gifted, treats with simplicity or with severity a serious subject.
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Truth sits upon the lips of dying men, And falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine.
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O strong soul, by what shore Tarriest thou now? For that force, Surely, has not been left vain!
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Come, dear children, let us away Down and away below!
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Youth dreams a bliss on this side of death. It dreams a rest, if not more deep, More grateful than this marble sleep It hears a voice within it tell: Calm's not life's crown, though calm is well. 'Tis all perhaps which man acquires, But 'tis not what our youth desires.
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Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew! In quiet she reposes Ah, would that I did too!
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Others abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask. Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge.
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Once read thy own breast right, And thou hast done with fears.
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We, peopling the void air, Make Gods to whom to impute The ills we ought to bear With God and Fate to rail at, suffering easily.
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Coleridge: poet and philosopher wrecked in a mist of opium.
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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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Physician of the Iron Age, Goethe has done his pilgrimage. He took the suffering human race, He read each wound, each weakness clear -- And struck his finger on the place, And said -- Thou ailest here, and here.
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The pursuit of perfection, then, is the pursuit of sweetness and light.... He who works for sweetness and light united, works to make reason and the will of God prevail.
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I am bound by my own definition of criticism : a disinterested endeavour to learn and propagate the best that is known and thought in the world.
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ForTime, not Corydon, hath conquered thee.
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But thou, my son, study to make prevail One colour in thy life, the hue of truth.
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Nature's great law, and the law of all men's minds? To its own impulse every creature stirs: Live by thy light, and Earth will live by hers.
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The need of expansion is as genuine an instinct in man as the need in a plant for the light, or the need in man himself for going upright. The love of liberty is simply the instinct in man for expansion.
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