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| Author |
Quotes |
| Thomas Campbell | For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom But roses blossom'd each rustic tomb. | | William Wordsworth | Of vast circumference and gloom profound, This solitary Tree! A living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay, Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed. | | William Wordsworth | There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore. | | William Shakespeare | Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witch's mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravined salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digged i' th' dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew Slivered in the moon's eclipse, Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-delivered by a drab Make the gruel thick and slab. Add there to a tiger's chaudron For th' ingredience of our cauldron. | | - Page 1 Next | |
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