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Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
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More quotes by William C. Bryant

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Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime.
William C. Bryant
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Loveliest of lovely things are they, On earth, that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.
William C. Bryant
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Winning isn't everything, but it beats anything in second place.
William C. Bryant
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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
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Difficulty is the nurse of greatness.
William C. Bryant
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Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.
William C. Bryant
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The right to discuss freely and openly, by speech, by the pen, by the press, all political questions, and to examine the animadvert upon all political institutions is a right so clear and certain, so interwoven with our other liberties, so necessary, in fact, to their existence, that without it we must fall into despotism and anarchy.
William C. Bryant
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[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
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And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.
William C. Bryant
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Your peaks are beautiful, ye Apennines! In the soft light of these serenest skies From the broad highland region, black with pines, Fair as the hills of Paradise they rise, Bathed in the tint Peruvian slaves behold In rosy flushes on the virgin gold.
William C. Bryant
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Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.
William C. Bryant
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I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings.
William C. Bryant
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God hath yoked to guilt her pale tormentor,--misery.
William C. Bryant
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That make the meadows green and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,-- Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
William C. Bryant
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Showers and sunshine bring, Slowly, the deepening verdure o'er the earth To put their foliage out, the woods are slack, And one by one the singing-birds come back.
William C. Bryant
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A herd of prairie-wolves will enter a field of melons and quarrel about the division of the spoils as fiercely and noisily as so many politicians.
William C. Bryant
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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
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Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.
William C. Bryant
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The hushed winds their Sabbath keep.
William C. Bryant
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I grieve for life's bright promise, just shown and then withdrawn.
William C. Bryant