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Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.
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
Spouse
Clay
Thee
Brother
Men
Worm
Pilgrim
Hail
Worms
More quotes by Thomas Campbell
One moment may with bliss repay Unnumbered hours of pain.
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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 smaller your reality, the more convinced you are that you know everything.
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Where the Scriptures speak, we speak where the Scriptures are silent, we are silent.
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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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Oh, how hard it is to find The one just suited to our mind!
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He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
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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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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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What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.
Thomas Campbell
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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The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.
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For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.
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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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Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree-- It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.
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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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Better be courted and jilted Than never be courted at all.
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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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What millions died that Caesar might be great!
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The popularity of that baby-faced boy, who possessed not even the elements of a good actor, was a hallucination in the public mind, and a disgrace to our theatrical history.
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