Dante Gabriel Rossetti Quotes
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragonfly Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky.
The worst moment for the atheist is when he is really thankful and has nobody to thank.
Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been; I am also call'd No-more, Too-late, Farewell.
You have been mine before - How long ago I may not know: But just when at that swallow's soar, your neck turned so, Some veil did fall, - I knew it all of yore.
If God in his wisdom have brought closeThe day when I must die,That day by water or fire or airMy feet shall fall in the destined snareWherever my road may lie.
I am not as these are, the poet saithIn youth's pride, and the painter, among menAt bay, where never pencil comes nor pem
Sudden Light I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the light around the shore.
Sometimes thou seem'st not as thyself alone, But as the meaning of all things that are.
And Love, our light at night and shade at noon,Lulls us to rest with songs, and turns awayAll shafts of shelterless tumultuous day.
From perfect grief there need not beWisdom or even memory;One thing then learned remains to me -The woodspurge has a cup of three.
Was it a friend or foe that spread these lies; Nay, who but infants question in such wise, twas one of my most intimate enemies.
At length their long kiss severed, with sweet smart:And as the last slow sudden drops are shedFrom sparkling eaves when all the storm has fled,So singly flagged the pulses of each heart.
This sunlight shames November where he grieves In dead red leaves, and will not let him shun The day, though bough with bough be overrun. But with a blessing every glade receives High salutation.
Gather a shell from the strewn beach And listen at its lips: they sigh The same desire and mystery, The echo of the whole sea's speech.
Unto the man of yearning thought And aspiration, to do nought Is in itself almost an act.
Still we say as we go,-"Strange to think by the wayWhatever there is to know,That shall we know one day.
Give honour unto Luke Evangelist; For he it was (the aged legends say) Who first taught Art to fold her hands and pray.
I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.
The worst moment for the atheist is when he is really thankful and has nobody to thank.
Conception my boy fundamental brainwork is what makes the difference in all art.