The knowledge of my sin Is half-repentance.
BAYARD TAYLORThe most annoying of all blockheads is a well-read fool.
More Bayard Taylor Quotes
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Love is better than Fame.
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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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Opportunity is rare, and a wise man will never let it go by him.
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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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To Truth’s house there is a single door, which is experience.
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I love thee, I love but thee, With a love that shall not die.
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The most annoying of all blockheads is a well-read fool.
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But still I dream that somewhere there must be The spirit of a child that waits for me.
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The glories of the possible are ours.
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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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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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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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Higher than the perfect song For which love longeth, Is the tender fear of wrong, That never wrongeth.
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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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Could one live on the sense of beauty alone, exempt from the necessity of ‘creature comforts,’ a sea-voyage would be delightful.
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Sometimes an hour of Fate’s serenest weather Strikes through our changeful sky its coming beams; Somewhere above us, in elusive ether, Waits the fulfilment of our dearest dreams.
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Love’s humility is love’s true pride.
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In the glory which overhangs Palestine afar off, we imagine emotions which never come, when we tread the soil and walk over the hallowed sites.
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The nearest approach I have ever seen to the symmetry of ancient sculpture was among the Arab tribes of Ethiopia. Our Saxon race can supply the athlete, but not the Apollo.
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Sweeter than the stolen kiss Are the granted kisses
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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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Swelling in anger or sparkling in glee.
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Although Damascus is considered the oldest city in the world, the date of its foundation going beyond tradition, there are very few relics of antiquity in or near it.
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Alone each heart must cover up its dead; Alone, through bitter toil, achieve its rest.
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The clouds are scudding across the moon, A misty light is on the sea; The wind in the shrouds has a wintry tune, And the foam is flying free.
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The hollows are heavy and dank With the steam of the Goldenrods.
BAYARD TAYLOR