Others abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask. Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge.
MATTHEW ARNOLDNow the great winds shoreward blow Now the salt tides seaward flow Now the wild white horses play Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
More Matthew Arnold Quotes
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Weep bitterly over the dead, for he is worthy, and then comfort thyself; drive heaviness away: thou shall not do him good, but hurt thyself.
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Use your gifts faithfully, and they shall be enlarged; practice what you know, and you shall attain to higher knowledge.
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The grand stye arises in poetry, when a noble nature, poetically gifted, treats with simplicity or with severity a serious subject.
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Who hesitate and falter life away, and lose tomorrow the ground won today.
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Joy comes and goes, hope ebbs and flows Like the wave; Change doth unknit the tranquil strength of men. Love tends life a little grace, A few sad smiles; and then, Both are laid in one cold place, In the grave.
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The power of the Latin classic is in character , that of the Greek is in beauty . Now character is capable of being taught, learnt, and assimilated: beauty hardly.
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I keep saying, Shakespeare, Shakespeare, you are as obscure as life is.
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One thing only has been lent to youth and age in common–discontent.
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The need of expansion is as genuine an instinct in man as the need in a plant for the light, or the need in man himself for going upright. The love of liberty is simply the instinct in man for expansion.
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It is a very great thing to be able to think as you like; but, after all, an important question remains: what you think.
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This strange disease of modern life, With its sick hurry, its divided aims.
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A wanderer is man from his birth. He was born in a ship On the breast of the river of Time.
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Genius is mainly an affair of energy.
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The sophist sneers: Fool, take Thy pleasure, right or wrong! The pious wail: Forsake A world these sophists throng! Be neither saint nor sophist-led, but be a man.
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Tis not to see the world As from a height, with rapt prophetic eyes, And heart profoundly stirred; And weep, and feel the fullness of the past, The years that are not more.
MATTHEW ARNOLD