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The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.

Thomas Campbell

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Thomas Campbell
Age: 66 †
Born: 1777
Born: July 27
Died: 1844
Died: June 15
Journalist
Musicologist
Poet
Writer
Glasgow
Scotland
Seeds
Tree
Memorial
Blood
Patriot
Liberty
Uplifting
Freedom
Seed
Force
Patriotic
Troops
Fallen

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On the green banks of Shannon, when Sheelah was nigh, No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I, No harp like my own could so cheerily play, And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.
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Beauty's witching sway is now to me a star that's fallen-a dream that's passed away.
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Fundamental assumptions in general and scientific assumptions in particular are so hard to overturn because they are based on belief. Beliefs are so hard to overcome because they are irrational and therefore do not yield to logical argument.
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On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
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The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return.
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The smaller your reality, the more convinced you are that you know everything.
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The only thing that is fundamental (real) is consciousness itself all else is virtual- i.e., a result of an exchange of information within consciousness.
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Where the Scriptures speak, we speak where the Scriptures are silent, we are silent.
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One moment may with bliss repay Unnumbered hours of pain.
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The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.
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I'll meet the raging of the skies, but not an angry father.
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An original something, dear maid, you would wish me to write but how shall I begin? For I'm sure I have not original in me, Excepting Original Sin.
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Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.
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Never wedding, ever wooing, Still a lovelorn heart pursuing, Read you not the wrong you're doing In my cheek's pale hue? All my life with sorrow strewing Wed or cease to woo.
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Love! the surviving gift of Heaven, The choicest sweet of Paradise, In life's else bitter cup distilled.
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O star-eyed Science, hast thou wander'd there, To waft us home the message of despair?
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The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
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Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art.
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Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree-- It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.
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He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
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