Bryan Procter Famous Quotes
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Touch us gently, Time!
Let us glide adown thy stream
Gently,-as we sometimes glide
Through a quiet dream!
The sweetest noise on earth, a woman's tongue; A string which hath no discord.
Death is the tyrant of the imagination.
I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more.
Enter upon thy paths, O year!
Thy paths, which all who breathe must tread,
Which lead the Living to the Dead,
I enter; for it is my doom
To tread thy labyrinthine gloom;
To note who round me watch and wait;
To love a few; perhaps to hate;
And do all duties of my fate.
Even Echo speaks not on these radiant moors.
Pity speaks to grief More sweetly than a band of instruments.
Love can take what shape he pleases; and when once begun his fiery inroad in the soul, how vain the after knowledge which his presence gives! We weep or rave; but still he lives, and lives master and lord, amidst pride and tears and pain.
There's not a wind but whispers of thy name; And not a flow'r that grows beneath the moon, But in its hues and fragrance tells a tale Of thee, my love.
Most writers steal a good thing when they can, and when 'Tis safely got 'Tis worth the winning. The worst of 't is we now and then detect em, they ever dream that we suspect em.
Half the ills we heard within our hearts are ills because we hoard them.
Women are so gentle, so affectionate, so true in sorrow, so untired and untiring! but the leaf withers not sooner, and tropic light fades not more abruptly.
O human beauty, what a dream art thou, that we should cast our life and hopes away on thee!
Not the rich viol, trump, cymbal, nor horn,
Guitar, nor cittern, nor the pining flute,
Are half so sweet as tender human words.
The sea! The sea! The open sea!, The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
The progress from infancy to boyhood is imperceptible. In that long dawn of the mind we take but little heed. The years pass by us, one by one, little distinguishable from each other. But when the intellectual sun of our life is risen, we take due note of joy and sorrow.
I 'm on the sea! I 'm on the sea! I am where I would ever be, With the blue above and the blue below, And silence wheresoever I go.
All round the room my silent servants wait, My friends in every season, bright and dim.
Despair doth strike as deep a furrow in the brain as mischief or remorse.
Sing! Who sings To her who weareth a hundred rings? Ah, who is this lady fine? The Vine, boys, the Vine! The mother of the mighty Wine, A roamer is she O'er wall and tree And sometimes very good company.
Shadows fall on even the brightest hours.
Gamaun is a dainty steed,
Strong, black, and of a noble breed,
Full of fire, and full of bone,
With all his line of fathers known;
Fine his nose, his nostrils thin,
But blown abroad by the pride within;
His mane is like a river flowing,
And his eyes like embers glowing
In the darkness of the night,
And his pace as swift as light.
