Sidney Lanier Quotes (38 Quotes)

'Tis Winter, still: the Bend lies dim.

Your Life shall chaffer in the market-place,
A merchant trading in the goods of grief.

Music is love in search of a word.

Virtues are acquired through endeavor, which rests wholly upon yourself.

You screech, and swish de water, Satan!

My bare thought, whetted as a sword, cut sheer
Through time and life and flesh and death, to clear
My way unto Nirvana.

Your Life shall bend and o'er his shuttle toil,
A weaver weaving at the loom of grief.

So Night takes toll of Wisdom as of Sin.

So hath Trade withered up Love's sinewy prime,
Men love not women as in olden time.

Yea, it forgives me all my sins,
Fits life to love like rhyme to rhyme,
And tunes the task each day begins
By the last trumpet-note of Time.

Opinion, let me alone: I am not thine.

Your Life shall moil i' the ground, and plant his seed,
A farmer foisoning a huge crop of grief.

No: I'll not keep you: good-bye, friend.

Your Life shall sweat 'twixt anvil and hot forge,
An armorer working at the sword of grief.

I sweep out seaward: -- be thou brave.

I know men waking who appear to dream.

Now the swift sail of straining life is furled,
And through the stillness of my soul is whirled
The throbbing of the hearts of half the world.

The nymphs, cold creatures of man's colder brain,
Chilled Nature's streams till man's warm heart was fain
Never to lave its love in them again.

Brain rose again, ungloved,
Heart, dying, smiled and faintly said,
"My love to my beloved!

Motion stood dreaming he was changed to Rest,
And Life asleep did fancy he was Death.

Many students felt violated by what happened. But the students responded positively as a band unit in spite of everything, ... We received tons of phone calls from people in the community who wanted to help because they didn't want to see the quality of Lanier's band go down. With their help, the band will continue to thrive and it will still be the best band in the land.

I once was rich, and round, and hale.

Time was a Shepherd with four sheep.

Well: Love and Pain
Be kinsfolk twain:
Yet would, Oh would I could love again.

Not larger than two eyes, they lie
Beneath the many-changing sky
And mirror all of life and time,
-- Serene and dainty pantomime.

And so out of all reason.

O purchased lips that kiss with pain!

Sweet Science, this large riddle read me plain:
How may the death of that dull insect be
The life of yon trim Shakespeare on the tree?

The hound had but a churlish wit.

Your Life shall go to battle with his bow,
A soldier fighting in defence of grief.

Yea, gathering crops whose worth no man might tell,
He staked his life on games of Buy-and-Sell,
And turned each field into a gambler's hell.

But soon I learned full well, poor fool!

O, angry was the hound.

If you want to be found stand where the seeker seeks.

I doubt no doubts: I strive, and shrive my clay,
And fight my fight in the patient modern way
For true love and for thee -- ah me!

Thus we became the sport of Fate.

Then Love cried, "Break me his lance, each knight!

A rose of perfect red, embossed
With silver sheens of crystal frost,
Yet warm, nor life nor fragrance lost.