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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.

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
Men
Gray
Pray
Praying
Father
Hearty
Left
Hale
Tell
William
Young
Locks
Reason
Cried

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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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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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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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I can remember, with unsteady feet, Tottering from room to room, and finding pleasure In flowers, and toys, and sweetmeats, things which long Have lost their power to please which when I see them, Raise only now a melancholy wish I were the little trifler once again, Who could be pleas'd so lightly.
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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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Thou hast been called, O sleep, the friend of woe, But 'tis the happy that have called thee so.
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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.
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Earth could not hold us both, nor can one heaven Contain my deadliest enemy and me.
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There is another world for all that live and move-a better one!
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A stubborn mind conduces as little to wisdom or even to knowledge, as a stubborn temper to happiness
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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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Give me a room whose every nook is dedicated to a book.
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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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A good man and a wise man may at times be angry with the world, at times grieved for it but be sure no man was ever discontented with the world who did his duty in it.
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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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What will not woman, gentle woman dare when strong affection stirs her spirit up?
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No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other's worth.
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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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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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The history of any private family, however humble, could it be fully related for five or six generations, would illustrate the state and progress of society better than the most elaborate dissertation.
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