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Oh, how hard it is to find The one just suited to our mind!
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
Justice
Find
Hard
Mind
Suited
More quotes by Thomas Campbell
The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn, Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return.
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.
Thomas Campbell
He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
Thomas Campbell
A stoic of the woods,--a man without a tear.
Thomas Campbell
The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.
Thomas Campbell
The smaller your reality, the more convinced you are that you know everything.
Thomas Campbell
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!
Thomas Campbell
On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
Thomas Campbell
For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.
Thomas Campbell
One moment may with bliss repay Unnumbered hours of pain.
Thomas Campbell
Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.
Thomas Campbell
I'll meet the raging of the skies, but not an angry father.
Thomas Campbell
O star-eyed Science, hast thou wander'd there, To waft us home the message of despair?
Thomas Campbell
Where the Scriptures speak, we speak where the Scriptures are silent, we are silent.
Thomas Campbell
Tomorrow let us do or die!
Thomas Campbell
What millions died that Caesar might be great!
Thomas Campbell
What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.
Thomas Campbell
Beauty's witching sway is now to me a star that's fallen-a dream that's passed away.
Thomas Campbell
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.
Thomas Campbell
The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.
Thomas Campbell