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Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again.
William C. Bryant
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William C. Bryant
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More quotes by William C. Bryant
He [William Henry Harrison] did not live long enough to prove his incapacity for the office of President.
William C. Bryant
The linden, in the fervors of July, Hums with a louder concert. When the wind Sweeps the broad forest in its summer prime, As when some master-hand exulting sweeps The keys of some great organ, ye give forth The music of the woodland depths, a hymn Of gladness and of thanks.
William C. Bryant
The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep to-night.
William C. Bryant
The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by. As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky.
William C. Bryant
Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.
William C. Bryant
Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger.
William C. Bryant
Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.
William C. Bryant
Heed not the night A summer lodge amid the wild is mine, 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'Tis mantled by the vine.
William C. Bryant
The fiercest agonies have shortest reign And after dreams of horror, comes again The welcome morning with its rays of peace.
William C. Bryant
So they, who climb to wealth, forget The friends in darker fortunes tried. I copied them--but I regret That I should ape the ways of pride.
William C. Bryant
And at my silent window-sill The jessamine peeps in.
William C. Bryant
[Thanatopsis] was written in 1817, when Bryant was 23. Had he died then, the world would have thought it had lost a great poet. But he lived on.
William C. Bryant
Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns, thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, And shot towards heaven.
William C. Bryant
And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.
William C. Bryant
Ah, never shall the land forget How gush'd the life-blood of the brave, Gush'd warm with hope and courage yet, Upon the soil they fought to save!
William C. Bryant
The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyone the sculpted flower.
William C. Bryant
The press, important as is its office, is but the servant of the human intellect, and its ministry is for good or for evil, according to the character of those who direct it. The press is a mill which grinds all that is put into its hopper. Fill the hopper with poisoned grain, and it will grind it to meal, but there is death in the bread.
William C. Bryant
Adversity is the nurse of greatness which roughly rocks her patients back to health.
William C. Bryant
God hath yoked to guilt her pale tormentor,--misery.
William C. Bryant
Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness - a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster children into strength and athletic proportion.
William C. Bryant