If you don’t concentrate on what you are doing then the thing that you are doing is not what you are thinking.
ALFRED LORD TENNYSONWe are all a part of every person we have ever met.
More Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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This barren verbiage, current among men, Light coin, the tinsel clink of compliment.
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And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds.
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What the sunshine is to the flower, the Lord Jesus Christ is to my soul.
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Love is the only gold.
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He makes no friend who never made a foe.
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Life is brief but love is LONG .
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I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.
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My strength is as the strength of ten, because my heart is pure.
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A beam in darkness: let it grow.
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The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself.
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Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control; these three alone lead one to sovereign power.
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Nor is it wiser to weep a true occasion lost, but trim our sails, and let old bygones be.
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Theirs is not to make reply: Theirs is not to reason why: Theirs is but to do and die.
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Oh that it were possible, After long grief and pain, To find the arms of my true love, Around me once again.
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Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die.
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Love will conquer at the last.
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Happy days roll onward leading up to golden years.
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Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.
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He that wrongs his friend, wrongs himself more.
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My life has crept so long on a broken wing Through cells of madness, haunts of horror and fear, That I come to be grateful at last for a little thing.
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God gives us love! Something to love He lends us; but when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone: This is the curse of time.
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It’s better to have tried and failed than to live life wondering what would’ve happened if I had tried.
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Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore, And the individual withers, and the world is more and more.
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I loved you, and my love had no return, And therefore my true love has been my death.
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A still small voice spake unto me, ‘Thou art so full of misery, Were it not better not to be?
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I sometimes find it half a sin, to put to words the grief I feel, For words like nature, half reveal, and half conceal the soul within.
ALFRED LORD TENNYSON