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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
Lovelier
Smile
Tears
Beauty

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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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Our land, the first garden of liberty's tree-- It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.
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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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The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began, Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.
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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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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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I'll meet the raging of the skies, but not an angry father.
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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 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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What millions died that Caesar might be great!
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What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.
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One moment may with bliss repay Unnumbered hours of pain.
Thomas Campbell
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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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Where the Scriptures speak, we speak where the Scriptures are silent, we are silent.
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O star-eyed Science, hast thou wander'd there, To waft us home the message of despair?
Thomas Campbell
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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
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Love! the surviving gift of Heaven, The choicest sweet of Paradise, In life's else bitter cup distilled.
Thomas Campbell