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For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile.

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
Smile
Tears
Beauty
Lovelier

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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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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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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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Love! the surviving gift of Heaven, The choicest sweet of Paradise, In life's else bitter cup distilled.
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The smaller your reality, the more convinced you are that you know everything.
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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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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.
Thomas Campbell
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One moment may with bliss repay Unnumbered hours of pain.
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He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe.
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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 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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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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The patriot's blood is the seed of Freedom's tree.
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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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A stoic of the woods,--a man without a tear.
Thomas Campbell
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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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The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.
Thomas Campbell