J.W. Lord Quotes

A man falling off a cliff to certain death will stretch out a hand even to his worst enemy.

It is life that hurts you not death.

Had I truly thought I would not die when he kissed me? But I did. For a moment the breath and life went out of me and there was no time and no tomorrow but only my lips against his.

And blue-lung'd combers lumbered to the kill.

Sometime, somewhere, life always comes to a fight, and peace always comes to an end.

Cery: So, Hem, tell me why I shouldn't see how many holes I need to make before you start leaking money?

Where do you get dreams like this?

And without forgiveness, there is never any peace.

God is forgiving or we would not still be walking this world. But to be moral is not to need his divine forgiveness, I think.

I have lived to see that being seventeen is no protection against becoming seventy, but to know this needs the experience of a lifetime, for no imagination copes with it.

You, my lord, are the ending of all true stories.

Sacredness grew like a pearl, sometimes around the most unlikely bits of grit.

I think if a story has a message it should be incidental and accidental, otherwise it leans too close to indoctrination.

Then shouldering their burdens, they set off, seeking a path that would bring them over the grey hills of the Emyn Muil, and down into the Land of Shadow.

He wants to be grown-up. How different dreams can be! Nature will soon grant your wish.

Old age is the Outpatient's Dept of purgatory.

Men are much more unwilling to have their weaknesses and their imperfections known than their crimes.

Good and evil lie close together. Seek no artistic unity in character.

The past is the best way to suppose what may come.

Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool.

And on her lover's arm she leant, And round her waist she felt it fold, And far across the hills they went In that new world which is the old.

And sometimes through the mirror blue The knights come riding two and two.

A truth looks freshest in the fashions of the day.

Sin is too stupid to see beyond itself.

Love's too precious to be lost, A little grain shall not be spilt.

And others' follies teach us not, Nor much their wisdom teaches, And most, of sterling worth, is what Our own experience preaches.

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and I linger on the shore, And the individual withers, and the world is more and more.

Four grey walls, and four grey towers, Overlook a space of flowers, And the silent isle imbowers The Lady of Shalott.

The woman is so hard Upon the woman.

God made thee good as thou art beautiful.

The golden guess is morning-star to the full round of truth.

Yet is there one true line, the pearl of pearls: Man dreams of Fame while woman wakes to love.

Science grows and Beauty dwindles.

Let knowledge grow from more to more, But more of reverence in us dwell; That mind and soul, according well, May make one music as before, But vaster.

As the husband is, the wife is.

So dear a life your arms enfold, Whose crying is a cry for gold.

Nature, so far as in her lies, imitates God.

Any man that walks the mead In bud, or blade, or bloom, may find, According as his humors lead, A meaning suited to his mind.

Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.

The woman's cause is man's. They rise or sink Together. / Dwarf'd or godlike, bound or free; miserable, / How shall men grow? - Let her be / All that not harms distinctive womanhood.

Man is man, and master of his fate.

I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men.

In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold

Here about the beach I wandered, nourishing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time.

Through the ages one increasing purpose runs.

It may be that no life is found, Which only to one engine bound Falls off, but cycles always round.

Follow the deer? Follow the Christ the King. Live pure, speak true,right wrong, Follow the King-- Else, wherefore born?

Man is the hunter; women are the game; those sleek and shining creatures of the chase. We hunt them for the beauty of their skins; they love us for it, and we ride them down.

That which we are, we are, and if we are ever to be any better, now is the time to begin.

All Life needs for life is possible to will.