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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.
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
Sky
Triumphal
Proud
Arch
Philosophy
Arches
Teach
Storms
Asks
Prepare
Art
Fill
Part
Storm
Thou
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.
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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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Oh, how hard it is to find The one just suited to our mind!
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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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Love! the surviving gift of Heaven, The choicest sweet of Paradise, In life's else bitter cup distilled.
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What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.
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I'll meet the raging of the skies, but not an angry father.
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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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Beauty's witching sway is now to me a star that's fallen-a dream that's passed away.
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Where the Scriptures speak, we speak where the Scriptures are silent, we are silent.
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The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.
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The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.
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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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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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The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.
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One moment may with bliss repay Unnumbered hours of pain.
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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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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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He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
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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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