Quotes from Gerard Manley Hopkins

O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed.

O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed. Hold them cheap May who ne'er hung there. Nor does long our small Durance deal with that steep or deep.

I find myself both as man and as myself something more determined and distinctive, at pitch, more distinctive and higher pitched than anything else I see.

I always knew in my heart Walt Whitman's mind to be more like my own than any other man's living.

I awoke in the Midsummer not-to-call night, in the white and the walk of the morning

ELECTED Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorlèd ear, Pipe me to pastures still and be The music that I care to hear.

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame

Look at the stars! Look, look up at the skies! Oh look at all the fire-folk sitting in the air! The bright boroughs, the circle-citadels there!

Searching nature I taste self but at one tankard, that of my own being.

Where lies your landmark, seamark, or soul's star?

Natural heart's ivy, Patience masks Our ruins of wrecked past purpose.

Let Him easter in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresseted east.

I do not write for the public. You are my public and I hope to convert you.

Glory be to God for dappled things.

Give beauty back, beauty, beauty, beauty, back to God, beauty's self and beauty's giver.

The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed.

Any day, any minute we bless God for our being or for anything, for food, for sunlight, we do and are what we were meant for, madefor--things that give and mean to give God glory.

God?is so great that all things give him glory if you mean they should.

By the by, if the English race had done nothing else, yet if they left the world the notion of a gentleman, they would have done a great service to mankind.

I always knew in my heart Walt Whitman's mind to be more like my own than any other man's living. As he is a very great scoundrel this is not a pleasant confession.

No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillionShine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.

The poetical language of an age should be the current language heightened.

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.

Religion, you know, enters very deep; in reality it is the deepest impression I have in speaking to people, that they are or that they are not of my religion.