Quotes to inspire and reflect

Far from the sun and summer-gale, In thy green lap was Nature’s Darling 1 laid.

No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) The bosom of his Father and his God.

The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth to fortune and to fame unknown. Fair Science frown’d not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark’d him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, Heav’n did a recompense as largely send: He gave to mis’ry all he had, a tear, He gain’d from Heav’n (’twas all he wish’d) a friend.

For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e’er resign’d, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing ling’ring look behind?

Mindful of th’ unhonor’d dead.

Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learn’d to stray; Along the cool sequester’d vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

To scatter plenty o’er a smiling land, And read their hist’ry in a nation’s eyes.

Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood; Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country’s blood.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway’d, Or wak’d to ecstasy the living lyre.

But knowledge to their eyes her ample page Rich with the spoils of time did ne’er unroll; Chill penury repress’d their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul.

Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.

Can storied urn, or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can honor’s voice provoke the silent dust, Or flatt’ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?

Let not ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile, The short and simple annals of the poor.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave, Awaits alike the inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn.

For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care.

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow’r The moping owl does to the moon complain.

Each in his narrow cell forever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.

A fav’rite has no friend!

What female heart can gold despise? What cat’s averse to fish?

To each his suff’rings: all are men, Condemn’d alike to groan, The tender for another’s pain, Th’ unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss, ’Tis folly to be wise.

Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today.

Ye distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat’ry glade.

Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.

Boswell: That, sir, was great fortitude of mind. Johnson: No, sir; stark insensibility.

Officious, innocent, sincere, Of every friendless name the friend.

When the hoary Sage replied, “Come, my lad, and drink some beer.”

As with my hat 7 upon my head I walk’d along the Strand, I there did meet another man With his hat in his hand. 8

How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure! Still to ourselves in every place consign’d, Our own felicity we make or find.

Here closed in death th’ attentive eyes That saw the manners in the face.

Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?

With these [Love, Patience, Faith] celestial Wisdom calms the mind, And makes the happiness she does not find.

“Enlarge my life with multitude of days!” In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays: Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know That life protracted is protracted woe.

He left the name at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.

Deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, And pause a while from learning to be wise. There mark what ills the scholar’s life assail— Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail.

Let observation with extensive view Survey mankind, from China to Peru. 2

For we that live to please must please to live.

Studious to please, yet not ashamed to fail.

Declamation roar’d, while Passion slept.

The wild vicissitudes of taste.

Cold approbation gave the ling’ring bays, For those who durst not censure, scarce could praise.

When learning’s triumph o’er her barb’rous foes First rear’d the stage, immortal Shakespeare rose; Each change of many-color’d life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagin’d new: Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting Time toil’d after him in vain.

Of all the griefs that harass the distrest, Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest.