Once in a century a man may be ruined or made insufferable by praise. But surely once in a minute something generous dies for want of it.
Heaven to me’s a fair blue stretch of sky, earth’s jest a dusty road.
So shall I fight, so shall I tread,|In this long war beneath the stars;|So shall a glory wreathe my head,|So shall I faint and show the scars,|Until this case, this clogging mould,|Be smithied all to kingly gold.
States are not made, nor patched; they grow: Grow slow through centuries of pain.
Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French.
I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide|Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;|And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,|And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
There are few earthly things more beautiful than a university a place where those who hate ignorance may strive to know, where those who perceive truth may strive to make others see.
What am I, Life? A thing of watery salt held in cohesion by unresting cells. Which work they know not why, which never halt, myself unwitting where their Master dwells?
Man with his burning soul has but an hour of breath to build a ship of truth in which his soul may sail — sail on the sea of death, for death takes toll of beauty, courage, youth, of all but truth.
- John Dryden English Poet
- Mary Webb English Novelist
- Edmund Spenser English Poet
- William Wordsworth English Poet
- Geoffrey Chaucer English Poet
- Colley Cibber English Playwright
- Pamela Hansford Johnson English Novelist
- Christopher Marlowe English Playwright
- Robert Browning English Poet
- Philip Larkin English Poet