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And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
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
Pair
Pairs
Sole
Honey
Sing
Build
Thing
Make
Idleness
More quotes by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The nightmare Life-in-Death was she.
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To believe and to understand are not diverse things, but the same things in different periods of growth.
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Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole.
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How like herrings and onions our vices are in the morning after we have committed them.
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Work without hope draws nectar in a sieve, And hope without an object cannot live.
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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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There is nothing insignificant-nothing.
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One thought includes all thought, in the sense that a grain of sand includes the universe.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
How strange and awful is the synthesis of life and death in the gusty winds and falling leaves of an autumnal day!
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Carved with figures strange and sweet, All made out of the carver's brain.
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Friends should be weighed, not told who boasts to have won a multitude of friends has never had one.
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Creation rather than painting, or if painting, yet such, and with such co-presence of the whole picture flash'd at once upon the eye, as the sun paints in a camera obscura. (Describing his poetic ideal, 1817)
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Intense study of the Bible will keep any writer from being vulgar, in point of style.
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May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling, Silent as though they watched the sleeping earth!
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I look'd to Heav'n, and try'd to pray But or ever a prayer had gusht, A wicked whisper came and made My heart as dry as dust.
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Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends! Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man? Three treasures, love and light, And calm thoughts, regular as infants' breath And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.
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A Falsehood is, in one sense, a dead thing but too often it moves about, galvanized by self-will, and pushes the living out of their seats.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
All nature seems at work.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Joy rises in me, like a summer's morn.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
