Quotes

It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. “By thy long gray beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?”

Here are your waters and your watering place. Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.

The trenchant blade, Toledo trusty, For want of fighting was grown rusty, And ate into itself, for lack Of somebody to hew and hack.

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love.

The guests are met, the feast is set: May’st hear the merry din.

Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would,” Like the poor cat i’ the adage.

Fly ’bout the ears of the old cur.

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he. I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books; But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

He holds him with his glittering eye— The Wedding Guest stood still, And listens like a three years’ child: The Mariner hath his will.

Have I not walked without an upward look Of caution under stars that very well Might not have missed me when they shot and fell? It was a risk I had to take—and took.

I am not now in fortune’s power: He that is down can fall no lower.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

The ship was cheered, the harbor cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the lighthouse top.

I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none.

Cleric before, and Lay behind; A lawless linsey-woolsey brother, Half of one order, half another.

Has any one supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.

To lure this tassel-gentle back again.

The Wedding Guest here beat his breast, For he heard the loud bassoon.

That looks in on to a mood apart.

For what is worth in anything But so much money as ’twill bring?

And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me.

The bride hath paced into the hall, Red as a rose is she.

Nor time nor place Did then adhere.

Love is a boy by poets styled; Then spare the rod, and spoil the child.

This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is, This is the common air that bathes the globe.

How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears!