Peace the offspring is of Power.
BAYARD TAYLORMelrose is the finest remaining specimen of Gothic architecture in Scotland. Some of the sculptured flowers in the cloister arches are remarkably beautiful and delicate, and the two windows – the south and east oriels – are of a lightness and grace of execution really surprising.
More Bayard Taylor Quotes
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He teaches best, Who feels the hearts of all men in his breast, And knows their strength or weakness through his own.
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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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Higher than the perfect song For which love longeth, Is the tender fear of wrong, That never wrongeth.
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Mock jewelry on a woman is tangible vulgarity.
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Pansies in soft April rains Fill their stalks with honeyed sap Drawn from Earth’s prolific lap.
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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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The maxims tell you to aim at perfection, which is well; but it’s unattainable, all the same.
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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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And far and wide, in a scarlet tide, The poppy’s bonfire spread.
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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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But who will watch my lilies, When their blossoms open white? By day the sun shall be sentry, And the moon and the stars by night!
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The hollows are heavy and dank With the steam of the Goldenrods.
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The aquilegia sprinkled on the rocks A scarlet rain; the yellow violet Sat in the chariot of its leaves, the phlox Held spikes of purple flame in meadows wet, And all the streams with vernal-scented reed Were fringed, and streaky bellow of miskodeed.
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And the wind that saddens, the sea that gladdens, Are singing the selfsame strain.
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The bravest are the most tender; the loving are the daring.
BAYARD TAYLOR