Best 127 quotes of William C. Bryant on MyQuotes

William C. Bryant

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    William C. Bryant

    Adversity is the nurse of greatness which roughly rocks her patients back to health.

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    William C. Bryant

    A herd of prairie-wolves will enter a field of melons and quarrel about the division of the spoils as fiercely and noisily as so many politicians.

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    William C. Bryant

    Ah, never shall the land forget How gush'd the life-blood of the brave, Gush'd warm with hope and courage yet, Upon the soil they fought to save!

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    William C. Bryant

    Ah! never shall the land forget How gushed the life-blood of her brave -

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    William C. Bryant

    Ah! never shall the land forget.

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    William C. Bryant

    Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild, stormy month! in praise of thee; Yet though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me. For thou, to northern lands, again The glad and glorious sun dost bring, And thou hast joined the gentle train And wear'st the gentle name of Spring.

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    William C. Bryant

    Ah, why Should we, in the world's riper years, neglect God's ancient sanctuaries, and adore Only among the crowd and under roofs That our frail hands have raised?

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    William C. Bryant

    Alas! to seize the moment When the heart inclines to heart, And press a suit with passion, Is not a woman's part. If man come not to gather The roses where they stand, They fade among their foliage, They cannot seek his hand.

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    William C. Bryant

    All great poets have been men of great knowledge.

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    William C. Bryant

    All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom.

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    William C. Bryant

    All things that are on earth shall wholly pass away, Except the love of God, which shall live and last for aye.

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    William C. Bryant

    A melancholy sound is in the air, A deep sigh in the distance, a shrill wail Around my dwelling. 'Tis the Wind of night.

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    William C. Bryant

    And kind the voice and glad the eyes That welcome my return at night.

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    William C. Bryant

    And suns grow meek, and the meek suns grow brief, and the year smiles as it draws near its death.

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    William C. Bryant

    And the blue gentian-flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.

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    William C. Bryant

    And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief.

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    William C. Bryant

    A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.

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    William C. Bryant

    A silence, the brief Sabbath of an hour, Reigns o'er the fields; the laborer sits within His dwelling; he has left his steers awhile, Unyoked, to bite the herbage, and his dog Sleeps stretched beside the door-stone in the shade. Now the gray marmot, with uplifted paws, No more sits listening by his den, but steals Abroad, in safety, to the clover-field, And crops its juicy-blossoms.

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    William C. Bryant

    Autumn, the year's last, loveliest smile.

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    William C. Bryant

    Beautiful isles! beneath the sunset skies tall, silver-shafted palm-trees rise, between full orange-trees that shade the living colonade.

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    William C. Bryant

    But 'neath yon crimson tree Lover to listening maid might breathe his flame, Nor mark, within its roseate canopy, Her blush of maiden shame.

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    William C. Bryant

    But Winter has yet brighter scenes-he boasts Splendors beyond what gorgeous Summer knows; Or Autumn with his many fruits, and woods All flushed with many hues.

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    William C. Bryant

    Can anything be imagined more abhorrent to every sentiment of generosity and justice, than the law which arms the rich with the legal right to fix, by assize, the wages of the poor? If this is not slavery, we have forgotten its definition. Strike the right of associating for the sale of labor from the privileges of a freeman, and you may as well bind him to a master, or ascribe him to the soil.

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    William C. Bryant

    Christ taught an astonishing thing about physical death: not merely that it is an experience robbed of its terror but that as an experience it does not exist at all. To "sleep in Christ," like one that wraps the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

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    William C. Bryant

    Come when the rains Have glazed the snow and clothed the trees with ice, While the slant sun of February pours Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach! The incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps And the broad arching portals of the grove Welcome thy entering.

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    William C. Bryant

    Difficulty is the nurse of greatness.

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    William C. Bryant

    Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness - a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster children into strength and athletic proportion.

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    William C. Bryant

    Do not the bright June roses blow To meet thy kiss at morning hours?

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    William C. Bryant

    Earth, that nourished thee, shall claim Thy growth, to be resolved to earth again, And, lost each human trace, surrendering up Thine individual being, shalt thou go To mix forever with the elements, To be a brother to the insensible rock And to the sluggish clod, which the rude swain Turns with his share, and treads upon. The oak Shall send his roots abroad, and pierce thy mold.

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    William C. Bryant

    Eloquence is the poetry of prose.

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    William C. Bryant

    Ere, in the northern gale, The summer tresses of the trees are gone, The woods of Autumn, all around our vale, Have put their glory on.

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    William C. Bryant

    Error's monstrous shapes from earth are driven They fade, they fly--but truth survives the flight.

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    William C. Bryant

    Fairest of all that earth beholds, the hues That live among the clouds, and flush the air, Lingering, and deepening at the hour of dews.

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    William C. Bryant

    Father, thy hand Hath reared these venerable columns, thou Didst weave this verdant roof. Thou didst look down Upon the naked earth, and, forthwith, rose All these fair ranks of trees. They, in thy sun, Budded, and shook their green leaves in thy breeze, And shot towards heaven.

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    William C. Bryant

    Features, the great soul's apparent seat.

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    William C. Bryant

    Flowers spring up unsown and die ungathered.

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    William C. Bryant

    Go forth under the open sky, and list To Nature's teachings.

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    William C. Bryant

    Genius, with all its pride in its own strength, is but a dependent quality, and cannot put forth its whole powers nor claim all its honors without an amount of aid from the talents and labors of others which it is difficult to calculate.

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    William C. Bryant

    Gently - so have good men taught - Gently, and without grief, the old shall glide Into the new; the eternal flow of things, Like a bright river of the fields of heaven, Shall journey onward in perpetual peace.

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    William C. Bryant

    Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson.

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    William C. Bryant

    Glorious are the woods in their latest gold and crimson, Yet our full-leaved willows are in the freshest green. Such a kindly autumn, so mercifully dealing With the growths of summer, I never yet have seen.

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    William C. Bryant

    God hath yoked to guilt her pale tormentor,--misery.

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    William C. Bryant

    Hark to that shrill, sudden shout, The cry of an applauding multitude, Swayed by some loud-voiced orator who wields The living mass as if he were its soul!

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    William C. Bryant

    Heed not the night; A summer lodge amid the wild is mine, 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'Tis mantled by the vine.

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    William C. Bryant

    Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place A limit to the giant's unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race?

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    William C. Bryant

    He [William Henry Harrison] did not live long enough to prove his incapacity for the office of President.

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    William C. Bryant

    I gazed upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the ground, 'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June When brooks send up a cheerful tune, And groves a joyous sound, The sexton's hand, my grave to make, The rich, green mountain-turf should break.

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    William C. Bryant

    I grieve for life's bright promise, just shown and then withdrawn.

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    William C. Bryant

    I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings.

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    William C. Bryant

    I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .