Quote

The moving moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide: Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Age: 61 †
Born: 1772
Born: October 21
Died: 1834
Died: July 25
Critic
Literary Critic
Philosopher
Poet
Theologian
Ottery St Mary
Devon
S. T. Coleridge
Going
Nowhere
Sky
Star
Moon
Went
Stars
Abide
Moving
Softly
Two
Beside

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And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin is pride that apes humility.
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The true key to the declension of the Roman empire which is not to be found in all Gibbon 's immense work may be stated in two words: the imperial character overlaying, and finally destroying, the national character. Rome under Trajan was an empire without a nation.
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Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God.
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Reviewers are usually people who would have been, poets, historians, biographer, if they could. They have tried their talents at one thing or another and have failed therefore they turn critic.
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If a man is not rising upwards to be an angel, depend upon it, he is sinking downwards to be a devil . He cannot stop at the beast. The most savage of men are not beasts they are worse, a great deal worse.
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The more sparingly we make use of nonsense, the better.
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Where virtue is, sensibility is the ornament and becoming attire of virtue. On certain occasions it may almost be said to become virtue. But sensibility and all the amiable qualities may likewise become, and too often have become, the panders of vice and the instruments of seduction.
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When thieves come, I bark when gallants, I am still - So perform both my master's and mistress's will.
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And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
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All sympathy not consistent with acknowledged virtue is but disguised selfishness.
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The poet is the man made to solve the riddle of the universe who brings the whole soul of man into activity.
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If people could learn history, what lessons it might teach us!
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The curiosity of an honorable mind willingly rests there, where the love of truth does not urge it farther onward, and the love of its neighbor bids it stop in other words, it willingly stops at the point where the interests of truth do not beckon it onward, and charity cries, Halt!
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During the act of knowledge itself, the objective and subjective are so instantly united, that we cannot determine to which of the two the priority belongs.
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And to be wroth with one we love…Doth work like madness in the brain.
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With no other privilege than that of sympathy and sincere good wishes, I would address an affectionate exhortation to the youthful literati, grounded on my own experience. It will be but short for the beginning, middle, and end converge to one charge: NEVER PURSUE LITERATURE AS A TRADE.
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Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
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In philosophy equally as in poetry it is the highest and most useful prerogative of genius to produce the strongest impressions of novelty, while it rescues admitted truths from the neglect caused by the very circumstance of their universal admission.
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The necessity for external government to man is in an inverse ratio to the vigor of his self-government. Where the last is most complete, the first is least wanted. Hence, the more virtue the more liberty.
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And in Life's noisiest hour, There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee, The heart's Self-solace and soliloquy. You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within.
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