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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!

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
Meet
Unendurable
Death
Headstone
World
Threshold
Hath
Grave
Graves
Eternity
Weight
Sundered

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From his brimstone bed, at break of day, A-walking the Devil is gone, To look at his little snug farm of the World, And see how his stock went on.
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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.
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Three things a wise man will not trust, The wind, the sunshine of an April day, And woman's plighted faith.
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There was a time when I believed in the persuadability of man, and had the mania of man-mending. Experience has taught me better. The ablest physician can do little in the great lazar-house of society. He acts the wisest part who retires from the contagion.
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By writing much, one learns to write well.
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One fault begets another one crime renders another necessary.
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For society, of all places I have ever been, Norwich is the best.
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Little, indeed, does it concern us in this our mortal stage, to inquire whence the spirit hath come but of what infinite concern is the consideration whither it is going. Surely such consideration demands the study of a life.
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In the days of my youth I remembered my God! And He hath not forgotten my age.
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Order is the sanity of the mind, the health of the body, the peace of the city, the security of the state. As the beams to a house, as the bones to the microcosm of man, so is order to all things.
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What will not woman, gentle woman dare when strong affection stirs her spirit up?
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Cupid the little greatest god.
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Affliction is not sent in vain, young man, from that good God, who chastens whom he loves.
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A man may be cheerful and contented in celibacy, but I do not think he can ever be happy it is an unnatural state, and the best feelings of his nature are never called into action.
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The solitary Bee Whose buzzing was the only sound of life, Flew there on restless wing, Seeking in vain one blossom where to fix.
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The true one of youth's love, proving a faithful helpmate in those years when the dream of life is over, and we live in its realities.
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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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My name is Death: the last best friend am I.
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And when my own Mark Antony Against young Caesar strove, And Rome's whole world was set in arms, The cause was,--all for love.
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