Ah, when shall all men’s good Be each man’s rule, and universal peace Lie like a shaft of light across the land, And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, Thro’ all the circle of the golden year?
ALFRED LORD TENNYSONTis held that sorrow makes us wise.
More Alfred Lord Tennyson Quotes
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I found Him in the shining of the stars.
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The vow that binds too strictly snaps itself.
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Love lieth deep; Love dwells not in lip-depths; Love laps his wings on either side the heart Absorbing all the incense of sweet thoughts, So that they pass not to the shrine of sound.
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The quiet sense of something lost.
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The old order changes yielding place to new.
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The shell must break before the bird can fly.
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And men, whose reason long was blind, From cells of madness unconfined, Oft lose whole years of darker mind.
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I can’t sleep without knowing there’s hope. Half the night I waste in sighs. In a wakeful doze I sorrow. For the hands, for the lips… the eyes. For the meeting of tomorrow.
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I can’t be anonymous by reason of your confounded photographs. (To Julia Margaret Cameron)
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He makes no friend who never made a foe.
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Ours is not to wonder why. Ours is just to do or die.
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Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die.
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Silence, beautiful voice.
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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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For love reflects the thing beloved.
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Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.
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Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
ALFRED LORD TENNYSON -
A louse in the locks of literature.
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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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Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?
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There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass.
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I must lose myself in action, lest I wither in despair.
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God’s finger touched him, and he slept.
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O love, O fire! once he drew With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.
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Thou madest man, he knows not why, he thinks he was not made to die.
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Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.
ALFRED LORD TENNYSON