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Leave the poor Some time for self-improvement. Let them not Be forced to grind the bones out of their arms For bread, but have some space to think and feel Like moral and immortal creatures.
Philip James Bailey
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Philip James Bailey
Age: 86 †
Born: 1816
Born: April 22
Died: 1902
Died: September 6
Author
Poet
Writer
P. J. Bailey
Like
Space
Improvement
Poor
Bones
Self
Bread
Feel
Creatures
Feels
Poverty
Time
Arms
Grind
Think
Leave
Immortal
Thinking
Moral
Forced
More quotes by Philip James Bailey
Man is a military animal, glories in gunpowder, and loves parade.
Philip James Bailey
The heart is its own Fate.
Philip James Bailey
Evil is limited. One cannot form A scheme for universal evil.
Philip James Bailey
Life is as serious a thing as death.
Philip James Bailey
We live in deeds, not years in thoughts, not breaths In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
Philip James Bailey
Blessings star forth forever but a curse is like a cloud, it passes.
Philip James Bailey
The ground of all great thoughts is sadness.
Philip James Bailey
There is no surer mark of the absence of the highest moral and intellectual qualities than a cold reception of excellence.
Philip James Bailey
The truth is perilous never to the true, Nor knowledge to the wise and to the fool, And to the false, error and truth alike, Error is worse than ignorance.
Philip James Bailey
Sorrow is a stone that crushes a single bearer to the ground, while two are able to carry it with ease.
Philip James Bailey
Walk boldly and wisely.... There is a hand above that will help you on.
Philip James Bailey
There is no disappointment we endure one-half so great as what we are to ourselves.
Philip James Bailey
The poet's pen is the true divining rod Which trembles towards the inner founts of feeling Bringing to light and use, else hid from all, The many sweet clear sources which we have of good and beauty in our own deep bosoms And marks the variations of all mind As does the needle.
Philip James Bailey
Dear Lord, our God and Saviour! for Thy gifts The world were poor in thanks, though every soul Were to do nought but breathe them, every blade Of grass, and every atomie of earth To utter it like dew.
Philip James Bailey
For as nightingales do upon glow-worms feed, So poets live upon the living light.
Philip James Bailey
Men might be better if we better deemed of them.
Philip James Bailey
My favoured temple is an humble heart.
Philip James Bailey
Evil then results from imperfection.
Philip James Bailey
Every believer is God's miracle.
Philip James Bailey
Envy's a coal comes hissing hot from Hell.
Philip James Bailey
