Quotes to inspire and reflect

How doth the little crocodile Improve his shining tail, And pour the waters of the Nile On every golden scale! 1 How cheerfully he seems to grin, How neatly spreads his claws, And welcomes little fishes in With gently smiling jaws!

Genius does what it must, and talent does what it can.

All in the golden afternoon Full leisurely we glide, For both our oars with little skill By little arms are plied While little hands make vain pretense Our wanderings to guide.

God strengthen me to bear myself; That heaviest weight of all to bear, Inalienable weight of care.

Sleeping at last, the trouble and turmoil over, Sleeping at last, the struggle and horror past, Cold and white, out of sight of friend and of lover, Sleeping at last.

Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads, The wind is passing by.

Oh roses for the flush of youth, And laurel for the perfect prime; But pluck an ivy branch for me Grown old before my time.

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land.

Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.

When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree. Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember And if thou wilt, forget.

Is come, my love is come to me.

My heart is like a singing bird.

Elysium is as far as to The very nearest Room If in that Room a Friend await Felicity or Doom— What Fortitude the Soul contains, That it can so endure The accent of a coming Foot— The opening of a Door—

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.

The only secret people keep Is Immortality.

My life closed twice before its close— It yet remains to see If Immortality unveil A third event to me So huge, so hopeless to conceive As these that twice befell. Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.

That it will never come again Is what makes life so sweet.

Eden is that old-fashioned House We dwell in every day Without suspecting our abode Until we drive away.

I took one Draught of Life— I’ll tell you what I paid— Precisely an existence— The market price, they said. They weighed me, Dust by Dust— They balanced Film with Film, Then handed me my Being’s worth— A single Dram of Heaven!

A Drunkard cannot meet a Cork Without a Revery— And so encountering a Fly This January Day Jamaicas of Remembrance stir That send me reeling in.

The Pedigree of Honey Does not concern the Bee— A Clover, any time, to him, Is Aristocracy.

Love’s stricken “why” Is all that love can speak— Built of but just a syllable The hugest hearts that break.

Bees are Black, with Gilt Surcingles— Buccaneers of Buzz.

Not with a Club, the Heart is broken Nor with a Stone— A Whip so small you could not see it I’ve known To lash the Magic Creature Till it fell.

A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.

Until the Desert knows That Water grows His Sands suffice But let him once suspect That Caspian Fact Sahara dies.

I thought that nature was enough Till Human nature came But that the other did absorb As Parallax a Flame—

There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands away Nor any Coursers like a Page Of prancing Poetry— This Traverse may the poorest take Without oppress of Toll— How frugal is the Chariot That bears the Human Soul!

A word is dead When it is said, Some say. I say it just Begins to live That day.

We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise And then, if we are true to plan Our statures touch the skies.

The Bustle in a House The Morning after Death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon Earth— The Sweeping up the Heart, And putting Love away We shall not want to use again Until Eternity.

Experiment to me Is every one I meet If it contain a Kernel? The Figure of a Nut Presents upon a Tree Equally plausibly, But Meat within, is requisite To Squirrels, and to Me.

I never saw a Moor— I never saw the Sea— Yet know I how the Heather looks And what a Billow be. I never spoke with God Nor visited in Heaven— Yet certain am I of the spot As if the Checks were given—

’Twas my one Glory— Let it be Remembered I was owned of Thee—

The Dying, is a trifle, past But living, this include The dying multifold—without The Respite to be dead.

But never met this Fellow Attended or alone Without a tighter breathing And Zero at the Bone—

A narrow Fellow in the Grass Occasionally rides—

If I can stop one Heart from breaking I shall not live in vain If I can ease one Life the Aching Or cool one Pain Or help one fainting Robin Unto his Nest again I shall not live in Vain.

Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth.

Dying! To be afraid of thee One must to thine Artillery Have left exposed a Friend— Than thine old Arrow is a Shot Delivered straighter to the Heart The leaving Love behind.

Adventure most unto itself The Soul condemned to be— Attended by a single Hound Its own identity.

This quiet Dust was Gentlemen and Ladies And Lads and Girls— Was laughter and ability and Sighing, And Frocks and Curls.

God gave a Loaf to every Bird— But just a Crumb—to Me—

Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me— The Carriage held but just Ourselves And Immortality.

Alter! When the Hills do— Falter! When the Sun Question if His Glory Be the Perfect One— Surfeit! When the Daffodil Doth of the Dew— Even as Herself—Sir— I will—of You—

And that White Sustenance— Despair—

Pain—has an Element of Blank— It cannot recollect When it begun—or if there were A time when it was not—

The Brain—is wider than the Sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will contain With ease—and You—beside.