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| There is a budding morrow in midnight, / There is a triple sight in blindness keen. |
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| There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish. |
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| There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object |
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| There is nothing stable in the world; uproar's your only music. |
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| There's a blush for won t, and a blush for shan't, and a blush for having done it: There's a blush for thought and a blush for naught, and a blush for just begun it. |
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| They shall be accounted poet kings / Who simply tell the most heart-easing things. |
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| Thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, / In some melodious plot / of beechen green, and shadows numberless, / Singest of summer in full-throated ease. |
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| Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought / As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! |
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| Though a quarrel in the streets is a thing to be hated, the energies displayed in it are fine; the commonest man shows a grace in his quarrel. |
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| Thy plaintive anthem fades / Past the near meadows, over the still stream, / Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep / In the next valley-glades: / Was it a vision or a waking dream? / Fled is that music: - Do I wake or sleep? |
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| To set budding more, / And still more, later flowers for the bees, / Until they think warm days will never cease, / For summer has o'erbrimmed their clammy cells. |
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| To Sorrow / I bade good-morrow, / And thought to leave her far away behind; / But cheerly, cheerly, / She loves me dearly; / She is so constant to me, and so kind. |
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| Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards, / And seal the hushèd Casket of my Soul. |
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| Verse, Fame and Beauty are intense indeed, But Death intenser - Death is Life's high meed |
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| Virgin-choir to make delicious moan / Upon the midnight hours. |
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| We read fine things but never feel them to the full until we have gone the same steps as the author. |
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| What occasions the greater part of the world's quarrels? Simply this: Two minds meet and do not understand each other in time enough to prevent any shock of surprise at the conduct of either party |
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| What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth. |
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| When I behold, upon the night's starred face, / Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance. |
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