The knowledge of my sin Is half-repentance.
BAYARD TAYLORI love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die.
More Bayard Taylor Quotes
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Sweeter than the stolen kiss Are the granted kisses
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Who thinks, at night, that morn will ever be? Who knows, far out upon the central sea, That anywhere is land? And yet, a shore Has set behind us, and will rise before: A past foretells a future.
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By wisdom wealth is won; but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.
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Sometimes an hour of Fate’s serenest weather Strikes through our changeful sky its coming beams; Somewhere above us, in elusive ether, Waits the fulfilment of our dearest dreams.
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The lamp you lighted in the olden time Will show you my heart’s-blood beating through the rhyme: A poet’s journal, writ in fire and tears… Then slow deliverance, with the gaps of years.
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The loving are the daring.
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In the glory which overhangs Palestine afar off, we imagine emotions which never come, when we tread the soil and walk over the hallowed sites.
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Voluptuous bloom and fragrance rare The summer to its rose may bring; Far sweeter to the wooing air The hidden violet of spring. Still, still that lovely ghost appears, Too fair, too pure, to bid depart; No riper love of later years Can steal its beauty from the heart.
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Mock jewelry on a woman is tangible vulgarity.
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Opportunity is rare, and a wise man will never let it go by him.
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Love’s humility is love’s true pride.
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Higher than the perfect song For which love longeth, Is the tender fear of wrong, That never wrongeth.
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Above Coblentz almost every mountain has a ruin and a legend. One feels everywhere the spirit of the past, and its stirring recollections come back upon the mind with irresistible force.
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To learn by observation is traveling, people must also bring knowledge with them.
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Women are not apt to be won by the charms of verse.
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Those who would attain to any marked degree of excellence in a chosen pursuit must work, and work hard for it, prince or peasant.
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Wrapped in his sad-colored cloak, the Day, like a Puritan, standeth Stern in the joyless fields, rebuking the lingering color,– Dying hectic of leaves and the chilly blue of the asters,– Hearing, perchance, the croak of a crow on the desolate tree-top.
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Really,’ thought I, ‘we call Baltimore the ‘Monumental City’ for its two marble columns, and here is Edinburg with one at every street-corner!
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An enthusiastic desire of visiting the Old World haunted me from early childhood. I cherished a presentiment, amounting almost to belief, that I should one day behold the scenes, among which my fancy had so long wandered.
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Eccentricity is developed monomania.
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With rushing winds and gloomy skies The dark and stubborn Winter dies: Far-off, unseen, Spring faintly cries, Bidding her earliest child arise; March!
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I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die.
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Departed suns their trails of splendor drew Across departed summers: whispers came From voices, long ago resolved again Into the primeval Silence, and we twain, Ghosts of our present selves, yet still the same, As in a spectral mirror wandered there.
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And rest, that strengthens unto virtuous deeds, Is one with Prayer.
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Alone each heart must cover up its dead; Alone, through bitter toil, achieve its rest.
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But still I dream that somewhere there must be The spirit of a child that waits for me.
BAYARD TAYLOR