We all have known good critics, who have stamped out poet's hopes; Good statesmen, who pulled ruin on the state; Good patriots, who, for a theory, risked a cause; Good kings, who disemboweled for a tax; Good Popes, who brought all good to jeopardy; Good Christians, who sat still in easy-chairs; And damned the general world for standing up. Now, may the good God pardon all good men! |
What I do and what I dream include thee, as the wine must taste of its own grapes. |
What I do and what I dream include thee, as the wine must taste of its own grapes. |
What is art but life upon the larger scale, the higher. When, graduating up in a spiral line of still expanding and ascending gyres, it pushes toward the intense significance of all things, hungry for the infinite? |
What is genius but the power of expressing a new individuality? |
What monster have we here? A great Deed at this hour of day? A great just deed -- and not for pay? Absurd -- or insincere? |
What was he doing, the great god Pan, / Down in the reeds by the river? / Spreading ruin and scattering ban, / Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, / And breaking the golden lilies afloat / With the dragon-fly on the river. |
What's the Greek name for Swine's Snout? |
Who so loves believes the impossible. |
Whoso loves believes the impossible |
Women know the way to rear up children (to be just). They know a simple, merry, tender knack of tying sashes, fitting baby-shoes, and stringing pretty words that make no sense. And kissing full sense into empty words. |
World's use is cold, world's love is vain, world's cruelty is bitter bane; but is not the fruit of pain. |
You were made perfectly to be loved - and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long. |