266 ordspråk av Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay
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Better not be at all than not be noble.
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Birds in the high Hall-garden/ When twilight was falling,/ Maud, Maud, Maud, Maud,/ They were crying and calling.
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Blind and naked ignorance delivers brawling judgments, unashamed, on all things all day long
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Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me
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Brief is life but love is long.
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Bright and fierce and fickle is the South,/ And dark and true and tender is the North.
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But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honor feels
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But what am I?/ An infant crying in the night:/ An infant crying for the light:/ And with no language but a cry.
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By blood a king, in heart a clown.
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Cannon to right of them,/ Cannon to left of them,/ Cannon in front of them/ Volleyed and thundered.
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Cleave never to the sunnier side of doubt.
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Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet.
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Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height:/ What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang)?
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Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown
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