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I cannot be content with less than heaven.

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
Cannot
Content
Heaven
Less

More quotes by Philip James Bailey

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Mind and night will meet, though in silence, like forbidden lovers.
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Dreams are rudiments Of the great state to come. We dream what is About to happen.
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Where doubt there truth is - 'tis her shadow.
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Youth might be wise we suffer less from pains than pleasures.
Philip James Bailey
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None but God can fill the perfect whole.
Philip James Bailey
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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.
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Words are the motes of thought, and nothing more.
Philip James Bailey
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The ground of all great thoughts is sadness.
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True faith nor biddeth nor abideth form, The bended knee, the eye uplift is all Which men need render all which God can bear. What to the faith are forms? A passing speck, A crow upon the sky.
Philip James Bailey
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Ah, nothing comes to us too soon but sorrow.
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For ivy climbs the crumbling hall To decorate decay.
Philip James Bailey
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The first and worst of all frauds is to cheat one's self.
Philip James Bailey
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There is no surer mark of the absence of the highest moral and intellectual qualities than a cold reception of excellence.
Philip James Bailey
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A poet not in love is out at sea He must have a lay-figure.
Philip James Bailey
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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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Death, thou art infinite it is life is little.
Philip James Bailey
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My favoured temple is an humble heart.
Philip James Bailey
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Envy's a coal comes hissing hot from Hell.
Philip James Bailey
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Every believer is God's miracle.
Philip James Bailey
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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