| Quotes |
Topic |
| Acting | It's very hard! Oh, Dick, my boy, It's very hard one can't enjoy A little private spouting; But sure as Lear or Hamlet lives, Up comes our master, Bounce! and gives The tragic Muse a routing. |
| Apparel | It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives. |
| Autumn | The Autumn is old; The sere leaves are flying; He hath gather'd up gold, And now he is dying;-- Old age, begin sighing! |
| Autumn | The year's in wane; There is nothing adorning; The night has no eve, And the day has no morning; Cold winter gives warning! |
| Beds | O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head. |
| Bells | Dear bells! how sweet the sound of village bells When on the undulating air they swim! |
| Bells | While the steeples are loud in their joy, To the tune of the bells' ring-a-ding, Let us chime in a peal, one and all, For we all should be able to sing Hullah baloo. |
| Blushes | Such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. |
| Brooks | Sweet are the little brooks that run O'er pebbles glancing in the sun, Singing in soothing tones. |
| Cowslips | The cowslip is a country wench. |
| Cruelty | It is not linen you're wearing out, But human creatures' lives. |
| Daisies | And daisy-stars, whose firmament is green. |
| Daisies | Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand Some random bud will meet; Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find The daisy at thy feet. |
| Dreams | Some dreams we have are nothing else but dreams, Unnatural and full of contradictions; Yet others of our most romantic schemes Are something more than fictions. |
| Gold | Gold! gold! gold! gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold! |
| Gold | Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold. |
| Hair | But she is vanish'd to her shady home Under the deep, inscrutable; and there Weeps in a midnight made of her own hair. |
| Hatters | The Quaker loves an ample brim, A hat that bows to no Salaam; And dear the beaver is to him As if it never made a dam. |
| Humanity | Over the brink of it Picture it--think of it, Dissolute man. Lave in it--drink of it Then, if you can. |
| Humanity | Oh, God! that bread should be so dear, And flesh and blood so cheap! |
| - Page 1 - 2 - 3 - Next |