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Does not the latent feeling that much of their striving is to no purpose tend to infuse large quantities of sham into men's work?
William Allingham
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William Allingham
Age: 65 †
Born: 1824
Born: March 19
Died: 1889
Died: November 18
Poet
Writer
Purpose
Quantities
Feelings
Latent
Doe
Striving
Work
Quantity
Much
Strive
Men
Tend
Large
Infuse
Feeling
Sham
More quotes by William Allingham
Winds and waters keepA hush more dead than any sleep.
William Allingham
Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly every day.
William Allingham
Bare twigs in April enhance our pleasure We know the good time is yet to come.... Bare twigs in Autumn are signs for sadness We feel the good time is well-nigh past.
William Allingham
Politeness costs nothing. Nothing, that is, to him that shows it but if often costs the world very dear.
William Allingham
I have been an Official all my life, without the least turn for it. I never could attain a true official manner, which is highly artificial and handles trifles with ludicrously disproportionate gravity.
William Allingham
Oh, bring again my heart's content, Thou Spirit of the Summer-time!
William Allingham
Solitude is very sad, Too much company twice as bad.
William Allingham
Pluck not the wayside flower It is the traveler's dower.
William Allingham
Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For mother's kiss - sweeter this Than any other thing!
William Allingham
Yet dearer still that Irish hill than all the world beside It's home, sweet home, where'er I roam, through lands and waterswide.
William Allingham
Sin we have explain'd away Unluckily, the sinners stay.
William Allingham
Four ducks on a pond, / A grass-bank beyond, / A blue sky of spring, / White clouds on the wing: / What a little thing / To remember for years - / To remember with tears!.
William Allingham
The mother's kiss is the sweetest thing ever.
William Allingham
Scarcely a tear to shed Hardly a word to say The end of a Summer's day Sweet Love is dead.
William Allingham
History of Ireland--lawlessness and turbulency, robbery and oppression, hatred and revenge, blind selfishness everywhere--no principle, no heroism. What can be done with it?
William Allingham
Not like Homer would I write, Not like Dante if I might, Not like Shakespeare at his best, Not like Goethe or the rest, Like myself, however small, Like myself, or not at all.
William Allingham
The trees are Indian Princes, But soon they'll turn to Ghosts The scanty pears and apples Hang russet on the bough Its Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late, 'Twill soon be Winter now. Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! And what will this poor Robin do? For pinching days are near.
William Allingham
I believe in Success, And in Comfort no less I believe all the rest is but patter.
William Allingham
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
William Allingham
Fairies, arouse! Mix with your song Harplet and pipe, Thrilling and clear, Swarm on the boughs! Chant in a throng! Morning is ripe, Waiting to hear.
William Allingham
