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Eloquence is the poetry of prose.
William C. Bryant
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William C. Bryant
Eloquence
Prose
Poetry
More quotes by William C. Bryant
Beautiful isles! beneath the sunset skies tall, silver-shafted palm-trees rise, between full orange-trees that shade the living colonade.
William C. Bryant
Poetry is that art which selects and arranges the symbols of thought in such a manner as to excite the imagination the most powerfully and delightfully.
William C. Bryant
There is no glory in star or blossom till looked upon by a loving eye There is no fragrance in April breezes till breathed with joy as they wander by.
William C. Bryant
Genius, with all its pride in its own strength, is but a dependent quality, and cannot put forth its whole powers nor claim all its honors without an amount of aid from the talents and labors of others which it is difficult to calculate.
William C. Bryant
When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multitude Of golden chalices to humming-birds And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.
William C. Bryant
It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
William C. Bryant
The rugged trees are mingling Their flowery sprays in love The ivy climbs the laurel To clasp the boughs above.
William C. Bryant
Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again.
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
Christ taught an astonishing thing about physical death: not merely that it is an experience robbed of its terror but that as an experience it does not exist at all. To sleep in Christ, like one that wraps the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
William C. Bryant
Truth crushed to the earth will rise again!
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
The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyone the sculpted flower.
William C. Bryant
Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild, stormy month! in praise of thee Yet though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me. For thou, to northern lands, again The glad and glorious sun dost bring, And thou hast joined the gentle train And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.
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
I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .
William C. Bryant
Difficulty is the nurse of greatness.
William C. Bryant
Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green. Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.
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
Winning isn't everything, but it beats anything in second place.
William C. Bryant
