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.
BAYARD TAYLORThe stream from Wisdom’s well, Which God supplies, is inexhaustible.
More Bayard Taylor Quotes
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By wisdom wealth is won; but riches purchased wisdom yet for none.
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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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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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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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Fame is what you have taken, / Character’s what you give; / When to this truth you waken, / Then you begin to live.
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The Poet’s leaves are gathered one by one, In the slow process of the doubtful years.
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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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The glories of the possible are ours.
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Pens carry further than rifled cannon.
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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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Opportunity is rare, and a wise man will never let it go by him.
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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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Sweeter than the stolen kiss Are the granted kisses
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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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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.
BAYARD TAYLOR