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All deception in the course of life is indeed nothing else but a lie reduced to practice, and falsehood passing from words into things.

Robert Southey

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Robert Southey
Age: 68 †
Born: 1774
Born: August 12
Died: 1843
Died: March 21
Biographer
Historian
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
Bristol
Gloucestershire
Robert Southey
Life
Courses
Course
Reduced
Practice
Deceit
Lying
Falsehood
Words
Deception
Else
Passings
Nothing
Passing
Things
Indeed

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There is another world for all that live and move-a better one!
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A wise judge, by the craft of the law, was never seduced from its purpose.
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One fault begets another one crime renders another necessary.
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And everybody praised the Duke Who this great fight did win. But what good came of it at last? Quoth little Peterkin. Why, that I cannot tell, said he, But 'twas a famous victory.
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Let us depart! the universal sun Confines not to one land his blessed beams Nor is man rooted, like a tree, whose seed, the winds on some ungenial soil have cast there, where it cannot prosper.
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There is a magic in that little world, home it is a mystic circle that surrounds comforts and virtues never know beyond its hallowed limits.
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Be thankful that your lot has fallen on times when, though there may be many evil tongues and exasperated spirits, there are none who have fire and fagot at command.
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You are old, Father William, the young man cried, The few locks which are left you are gray You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man,- Now tell me the reason I pray.
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Whoever has tasted the breath of morning knows that the most invigorating and most delightful hours of then day are commonly spent in bed though it is the evident intention of nature that we should enjoy and profit by them.
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My days among the dead are passed Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day.
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I cannot believe in an eternity of hell. I hope God will forgive me if I err but in this matter I cannot say, Lord help my unbelief.
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Few people give themselves time to be friends.
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What will not woman, gentle woman dare when strong affection stirs her spirit up?
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Cold is thy hopeless heart, even as charity.
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She comes majestic with her swelling sails, The gallant Ship: along her watery way, Homeward she drives before the favouring gales Now flirting at their length the streamers play, And now they ripple with the ruffling breeze.
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Whatever increases the strength and authority of your body over your mind, that is sin to you, however, innocent it may be in itself.
Robert Southey
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For a young and presumptuous poet a disposition to write satires is one of the most dangerous he can encourage. It tempts him to personalities, which are not always forgiven after he has repented and become ashamed of them.
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It is not for man to rest in absolute contentment. He is born to hopes and aspirations as the sparks fly upward, unless he has brutalized his nature and quenched the spirit of immortality which is his portion.
Robert Southey
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The grave is but the threshold of eternity. What a world were this, how unendurable its weight, If they whom death hath sundered, did not meet again!
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Thou hast been called, O sleep, the friend of woe, But 'tis the happy that have called thee so.
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