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The Reformation in the sixteenth century narrowed Reform. As soon as men began to call themselves names, all hope of further amendment was lost.
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
Began
Soon
Century
Sixteenth
Names
Narrowed
Call
Reformation
Hope
Amendment
Lost
Amendments
Men
Reform
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Flowers are lovely love is flower-like Friendship is a sheltering tree Oh the joys that came down shower-like, Of friendship, love, and liberty, Ere I was old!
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There are three classes into which all the women past seventy that ever I knew were to be divided: 1. That dear old soul 2. That old woman 3. That old witch.
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I love being superior to myself better than [to] my equals.
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A nation to be great ought to be compressed in its increment by nations more civilized than itself.
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I have found words [in the Bible] for my inmost thoughts, songs for my joy, utterances for my hidden griefs, and pleadings for my shame and my feebleness.
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For mother's sake the child was dear, and dearer was the mother for the child.
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A man's as old as he's feeling. A woman as old as she looks.
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There are errors which no wise man will treat with rudeness while there is a probability that they may be the refraction of some great truth still below the horizon.
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Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Yet she sailed softly too: Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze - On me alone it blew.
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Frenchmen are like gunpowder, each by itself smutty and contemptible, but mass them together and they are terrible indeed!
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And the Devil did grin, for his darling sin is pride that apes humility.
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An orphan's curse would drag to hell, a spirit from on high but oh! more horrible than that, is a curse in a dead man's eye!
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Summer has set in with its usual severity.
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A spring of love gush'd from my heart, And I bless'd them unaware.
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And to be wroth with one we loveā¦Doth work like madness in the brain.
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Water cannot rise higher than its source, neither can human reason.
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To leave no interval between the sentence and the fulfillment of it doth beseem God only, the Immutable!
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Joy is the sweet voice, joy the luminous cloud. We in ourselves rejoice! And thence flows all that charms or ear or sight, all melodies the echoes of that voice, all colours a suffusion from that light.
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Brute animals have the vowel sounds man only can utter consonants.
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No sound is dissonant which tells of life.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge