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0 sats \ 14 replies \ @Coinsreporter 23 Apr \ parent \ on: Most comments wins 👀 meta
There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask "What if I fall?"
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly?
-----Erin Hanson
Only in books the flat and final happens,
Only in dreams we meet and interlock....
---Philip Larkin
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I am certain of nothing but the holiness of heart's affections, and the truth of imagination.
----John Keats
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Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
----Philip Larkin
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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.
---Percy Bysshe Shelley
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In ourselves our safety must be sought.
By our own right hand it must be wrought.
----William Wordsworth
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To most men, experience is like the stern lights of a ship, which illumine only the track it has passed.
----Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Freely we serve
Because we freely love, as in our will
To love or not; in this we stand or fall.
---John Milton
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Our quaint metaphysical opinions, in an hour of anguish, are like playthings by the bedside of a child deadly sick.
-----Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Coleridge's Notebooks: A Selection
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Living toys are something novel,
But it soon wears off somehow.
---Philip Larkin
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. . . obedience,
Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth,
Makes slaves of men, and, of the human frame,
A mechanized automaton.
----Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Toleration is a herb of spontaneous growth in the Soil of Indifference; but the weed has none of the virtues of the medicinal plant, reared by Humility in the Garden of Zeal.
----Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Our own heart, and not other men's opinions, forms our true honor.
---Samuel Taylor Coleridge
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Life is but a day; A fragile dew-drop on its perilous way From a tree's summit.
---John Keats
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***What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.***
---Philip Larkin, Collected Poems
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