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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.

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
Begin
Shall
Excepting
Sure
Maid
Wish
Maids
Write
Originals
Writing
Original
Something
Dear
Would
Sin

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What millions died that Caesar might be great!
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He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
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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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Tomorrow let us do or die!
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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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Better be courted and jilted Than never be courted at all.
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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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Ye mariners of England! That guard our native seas Whose flag has braved a thousand years, The battle and the breeze!
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One moment may with bliss repay Unnumbered hours of pain.
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Oh, how hard it is to find The one just suited to our mind!
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The smaller your reality, the more convinced you are that you know everything.
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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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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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What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.
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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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The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.
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For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.
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A stoic of the woods,--a man without a tear.
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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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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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