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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
Feels
Poverty
Time
Arms
Grind
Think
Leave
Immortal
Thinking
Moral
Forced
Like
Space
Improvement
Poor
Bones
Self
Bread
Feel
Creatures
More quotes by Philip James Bailey
Night comes, world-jewelled, . . . The stars rush forth in myriads as to wage War with the lines of Darkness and the moon, Pale ghost of Night, comes haunting the cold earth After the sun's red sea-death--quietless.
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My favoured temple is an humble heart.
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None but God can fill the perfect whole.
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Man is one and he hath one great heart. It is thus we feel, with a gigantic throb athwart the sea, each other's rights and wrongs thus are we men.
Philip James Bailey
Death, thou art infinite it is life is little.
Philip James Bailey
The strongest passion which I have is honor.
Philip James Bailey
As the master so the valet.
Philip James Bailey
Kindness is wisdom. There is none in life But needs it and may learn.
Philip James Bailey
Dreams are rudiments Of the great state to come. We dream what is About to happen.
Philip James Bailey
Evil then results from imperfection.
Philip James Bailey
Nature means Necessity.
Philip James Bailey
Look on the bee upon the wing 'mong flowers How brave, how bright his life! then mark, him hiv'd, Cramp'd, cringing in his self-built, social cell, Thus it is in the world-hive most where men Lie deep in cities as in drifts.
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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.
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For ivy climbs the crumbling hall To decorate decay.
Philip James Bailey
Men might be better if we better deemed of them.
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Application is the price to be paid for mental acquisition. To have the harvest, we must sow the seed.
Philip James Bailey
Words are the motes of thought, and nothing more.
Philip James Bailey
I cannot be content with less than heaven.
Philip James Bailey
He who has most of heart knows most of sorrow.
Philip James Bailey
I have a heart with room for every joy .
Philip James Bailey
