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Is not thy home among the flowers?

William C. Bryant

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William C. Bryant
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More quotes by William C. Bryant

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The journalist should be on his guard against publishing what is false in taste or exceptionable in morals.
William C. Bryant
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War, like all other situations of danger and of change, calls forth the exertion of admirable intellectual qualities and great virtues, and it is only by dwelling on these, and keeping out of sight the sufferings and sorrows, and all the crimes and evils that follow in its train, that it has its glory in the eyes of men.
William C. Bryant
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Music is not merely a study, it is an entertainment wherever there is music there is a throng of listeners.
William C. Bryant
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It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.
William C. Bryant
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The sad and solemn night hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires The glorious host of light walk the dark hemisphere till she retires All through her silent watches, gliding slow, Her constellations come, and climb the heavens, and go.
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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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
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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
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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
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Truth crushed to the earth will rise again!
William C. Bryant
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Fairest of all that earth beholds, the hues That live among the clouds, and flush the air, Lingering, and deepening at the hour of dews.
William C. Bryant
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And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.
William C. Bryant
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A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.
William C. Bryant
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I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .
William C. Bryant
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The birch-bark canoe of the savage seems to me one of the most beautiful and perfect things of the kind constructed by human art.
William C. Bryant
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The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.
William C. Bryant
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Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth in her fair page.
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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A stable, changeless state, 'twere cause indeed to weep.
William C. Bryant
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Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,- The eternal years of God are hers But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers.
William C. Bryant