Life lives only in success.
BAYARD TAYLORThe bravest are the most tender; the loving are the daring.
More Bayard Taylor Quotes
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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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So far as female beauty is concerned, the Circassian women have no superiors. They have preserved in their mountain home the purity of the Grecian models, and still display the perfect physical loveliness, whose type has descended to us in the Venus de Medici.
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By wisdom wealth is won; but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.
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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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From the desert I come to thee, On a stallion shod with fire; And the winds are left behind In the speed of my desire.
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Learn to live, and live to learn, Ignorance like a fire doth burn, Little tasks make large return.
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There may come a day Which crowns Desire with gift, and Art with truth, And Love with bliss, and Life with wiser youth!
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I know I am–that simplest bliss The millions of my brothers miss. I know the fortune to be born, Even to the meanest wretch they scorn.
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Mock jewelry on a woman is tangible vulgarity.
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The stream from Wisdom’s well, Which God supplies, is inexhaustible.
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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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We follow and race In shifting chase, Over the boundless ocean-space! Who hath beheld when the race begun? Who shall behold it run?
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Melrose 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.
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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 healing of the world is in its nameless saints. Each separate star seems nothing, but a myriad scattered stars break up the night and make it beautiful.
BAYARD TAYLOR