Quotes About Truth

Man, who wert once a despot and a slave;A dupe and a deceiver; a decay;A traveler from the cradle to the graveThrough the dim light of this immortal day.

It is our willThat thus enchains us to permitted ill—We might be otherwise—we might be allWe dream of happy, high majestical.Where is the love, beauty and truth we seek,But in our mind?

Life may change, but it may fly not; Hope may vanish, but can die not; Truth be veiled, but still it burneth; Love repulsed, -- but it returneth.

To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite; To forgive wrongs darker than death or night; To defy power which seems omnipotent; To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates From its own wreck the thing it contemplates Life may change, but it may fly not; Hope may vanish, but can die not; Truth be veiled, but still it burneth; Love repulsed -but it returneth.

In fact, the truth cannot be communicated until it is perceived.

The One remains, the many change and pass; Heaven's light forever shines, Earth's shadows fly; Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, Stains the white radiance of Eternity, Until Death tramples it to fragments.—Die, If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek! Follow where all is fled!—Rome's azure sky, Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words are weak The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak.

The man Of virtuous soul commands not, nor obeys: Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches, and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame, A mechanised automaton.

I had rather not have any more of my hopes and illusions mocked by sad realities.

Speaking the wisdom once they could not think, looking emotions once they feared to feel, and changed to all which once they dared not be, yet being now, made earth like heaven.

A poem is the very image of life expressed in its eternal truth. There

None talked that common, false, cold, hollow talk which makes the heart deny the yes it breathes.

Poetry thus makes immortal all that is best and most beautiful in the world

Asia: Who is the master of the slave? Demogorgon: If the abysm could vomit forth its secrets...But a voice is wanting, the deep truth is imageless; For what would it avail to bid thee gaze on the revolving world? What to bid speak Fate, Time, Occasion, Chance, and Change? To these all things are subject but eternal Love.

His lips in truth-entangling lines which smiled he lie his tongue disdained to speak.

His lips in truth-entangling lines which smiled the lie his tongue disdained to speak.

Nature rejects the monarch, not the man; The subject, not the citizen; for kings And subjects, mutual foes, forever play A losing game into each other's hands, Whose stakes are vice and misery. The man Of virtuous soul commands not, nor obeys. Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate'er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and of the human frame A mechanized automaton.

If ignorance of nature gave birth to gods, a knowledge of nature is calculated to destroy them.

Deceit with sternness, ignorance with pride

IF [GOD] HAS SPOKEN, WHY IS THE UNIVERSE NOT CONVINCED?

Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted

Perri O'Shaughnessy

Intellectuals are judged not by their morals, but by the quality of their ideas, which are rarely reducible to simple verdicts of truth or falsity, if only because banalities are by definition accurate.

Remember that that "rude awakening" which your parents and well-meaning relatives threatened you with as a kid is better than no awakening at all.

The same people who believe that all-powerful modern truism that "Image is Everything," also believe everything they read in Vanity Fair.