Bryan Procter Quotes

How silent are the winds!

Pity speaks to grief more sweetly than a band of instruments.

Shadows fall on even the brightest hours.

Most writers steal a good thing when they can, and when 'Tis safely got 'Tis worth the winning. The worst of 't is we now and then detect em, they ever dream that we suspect em.

The sea! The sea! The open sea!, The blue, the fresh, the ever free!

I 'm on the sea! I 'm on the sea! I am where I would ever be, With the blue above and the blue below, And silence wheresoever I go.

A single star is rising in the east, and from afar sheds a most tremulous lustre; silent Night doth wear it like a jewel on her brow.

Where are Shakespeare's imagination, Bacon's learning, Galileo's dream? Where is the sweet fancy of Sidney, the airy spirit of Fletcher, and Milton's thought severe? Methinks such things should not die and dissipate, when a hair can live for centuries, and a brick of Egypt will last three thousand years. I am content to believe that the mind of man survives, somehow or other, his clay.

I said that I loved the wise proverb, Brief, simple and deep; For it I'd exchange the great poem That sends us to sleep.

The progress from infancy to boyhood is imperceptible. In that long dawn of the mind we take but little heed. The years pass by us, one by one, little distinguishable from each other. But when the intellectual sun of our life is risen, we take due note of joy and sorrow.

I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more.

O human beauty, what a dream art thou, that we should cast our life and hopes away on thee!

So mightiest powers buy deepest calms are fed, And sleep, how oft, in things that gentlest be!

Death is the tyrant of the imagination.

Despair doth strike as deep a furrow in the brain as mischief or remorse.

All round the room my silent servants wait, My friends in every season, bright and dim.

Women are so gentle, so affectionate, so true in sorrow, so untired and untiring! but the leaf withers not sooner, and tropic light fades not more abruptly.

Love can take what shape he pleases; and when once begun his fiery inroad in the soul, how vain the after knowledge which his presence gives! We weep or rave; but still he lives, and lives master and lord, amidst pride and tears and pain.

Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.

The sweetest noise on earth, a woman's tongue; A string which hath no discord.