Quotes About Reflection

There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!

All of us who are worth anything, spend our manhood in unlearning the follies, or expiating the mistakes of our youth

The world is weary of the past,Oh, might it die or rest at last!

In a drama of the highest order there is little food for censure or hatred it teaches rather self-knowledge and self-respect.

He is a portion of the lovelinessWhich once he made more lovely.

Away, away, from men and towns,To the wild wood and the downs.

Our sweetest songs are those that tell the saddest thoughts.

a single word even may be a spark of inextinguishable thought

We look before and after, And pine for what is not: Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell Of saddest thought. Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever Should come near.

I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear,— Till death like sleep might steal on me And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.

I love all waste and solitary places; where we taste the pleasure of believing what we see. Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be.

Poets, the best of them, are a very chameleonic race; they take the colour not only of what they feed on, but of the very leaves under which they pass

Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.

Away, away, from men and towns, / To the wild wood and the downs, — / To the silent wilderness, / Where the soul need not repress its music.

No more alone through the world's wilderness, Although I trod the paths of high intent, I journeyed now: no more companionless

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

Calm as a slumbering babe, Tremendous Ocean lay. The mirror of its stillness showed The pale and waning stars

Far, far below the chariot's path, Calm as a slumbering babe, Tremendous Ocean lay. The mirror of its stillness showed The pale and waning stars, The chariot's fiery track, And the gray light of morn Tinging those fleecy clouds That canopied the dawn.

Yes! all is past — swift time has fled away, Yet its swell pauses on my sickening mind; How long will horror nerve this frame of clay? I'm dead, and lingers yet my soul behind.

Alas! this is not what I thought life was. I knew that there were crimes and evil men, Misery and hate; nor did I hope to pass Untouched by suffering, through the rugged glen. In mine own heart I saw as in a glass The hearts of others ... And when I went among my kind, with triple brass Of calm endurance my weak breast I armed, To bear scorn, fear, and hate, a woeful mass!

Seek far from noise and day some western cave, Where woods and streams with soft and pausing winds A lulling murmur weave?— [_30 Ianthe] doth not sleep The dreamless sleep of death:- Shelley, Percy Bysshe (2011-03-24). The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley — Complete (Kindle Locations 317-319). . Kindle Edition.

We want the creative faculty to imagine that which we know; we want the generous impulse to act that which we imagine; we want the poetry of life: our calculations have outrun conception; we have eaten more than we can digest. The

I heard, as all have heard, the various story Of human life, and wept unwilling tears.