Fair flower, that dost so comely grow, Hid in this silent, dull retreat, Untouched thy honied blossoms blow, Unseen thy little branches greet; ...No roving foot shall crush thee here, ...No busy hand provoke a tear. By Nature's self in white arrayed, She bade thee shun the vulgar eye, And planted here the gaurdian shade, And sent soft waters murmuring by; ...Thus quietly thy summer goes, ...Thy days declinging to repose. Smit with those charms, that must decay, I grieve to see your future doom; They died--nor were those flowers more gay, The flowers that did in Eden bloom; ...Unpitying frosts, and Autumn's power ...Shall leave no vestige of this flower. From morning suns and evenign dews At first thy little being came: If nothing once, you nothing lose, For when you die you are the same; ...The space between, is but an hour, ...The frail duration of a flower.
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My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange, one for the other given: I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven.
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Oft have I mused, but now at length I find, Why those that die, men say they do depart.
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My mother, who hates thunderstorms, Holds up each summer day and shakes It out suspiciously, lest swarms Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there....
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But words came halting forth, wanting Inventions stayInvention, Natures child, fled step-dame Studys blows...Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite,Fool, said my Muse to me look in thy heart and write.
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And the waves sing because they are moving. And the waves sing above a cemetery of waters.
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Courage is no good: It means not scaring others. Being brave...
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The ingredients of health and long life, are great temperance, open air, easy labor, and little care.
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To be ambitious of true honor, of the true glory and perfection of our natures, is the very principle and incentive of virtue.
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Endlessly, time-honoured irritant, A bubble is restively forming at your tip....
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Then farewell, world; thy uttermost I see; Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me.
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Books; china; a life Reprehensibly perfect.
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'O what unlucky streak Twisting inside me, made me break the line?...
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In forming a judgment, lay your hearts void of foretaken opinions; else, whatsoever is done or said, will be measured by a wrong rule; like them who have jaundice, to whom everything appears yellow.
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For nations vague as weed, For nomads among stones,...
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Life is an immobile, locked, Three-handed struggle between...
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Living toys are something novel, But it soon wears off somehow....
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Let my whispering voice obtain Sweet reward for sharpest pain;
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I want to write about people I love, and put them into a fictional world spun out of my own mind, not the world we actually have, because the world we actually have does not meet my standards. Okay, so I should revise my standards; I'm out of step. I should yield to reality. I have never yielded to reality. That's what SF is all about. If you wish to yield to reality, go read Philip Roth; read the New York literary establishment mainstream bestselling writers
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In fact, may you be dull If that is what a skilled,...
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... everyone young going down the long slide To happiness, endlessly.
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Fearfulness, contrary to all other vices, maketh a man think the better of another, the worse of himself.
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That ready wit, which you so partially allow me, ... may create many admirers; but, take my word for it, it makes few friends. It shines and dazzles like the noonday sun, but, like that, too, it is very apt to scorch, and therefore is always feared. The milder morning and evening light and heat of that planet soothe and calm our minds. Never seek for wit; if it present itself, well and good; but even then, let your judgement interpose, and take care that it be not at the expense of anybody.
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... a unique endeavour To bring to bloom the million-petalled flower Of being here.
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Why should I let the toad work Squat on my life? Can't I use my wit as a pitchfork and drive the brute off?
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The only disadvantage of an honest heart is credulity.
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Sixty years ago they smiled At lover, husband, first-born child....
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While I am to crawl upon this Planet, I would willingly enjoy the health at least of an insect.
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Yea, worse than death: death parts both woe and joy: From joy I part, still living in annoy.
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Night hath closed all in her cloak, Twinkling stars love-thoughts provoke,...
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