Top 25 Bryan Procter Quotes
#1. O human beauty, what a dream art thou, that we should cast our life and hopes away on thee!
Bryan Procter
#2. 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.
Bryan Procter
#3. Half the ills we heard within our hearts are ills because we hoard them.
Bryan Procter
#4. The sweetest noise on earth, a woman's tongue; A string which hath no discord.
Bryan Procter
#5. There's not a wind but whispers of thy name; And not a flow'r that grows beneath the moon, But in its hues and fragrance tells a tale Of thee, my love.
Bryan Procter
#8. I never was on the dull, tame shore, But I loved the great sea more and more.
Bryan Procter
#9. 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.
Bryan Procter
#10. 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.
Bryan Procter
#11. The sea! The sea! The open sea!, The blue, the fresh, the ever free!
Bryan Procter
#12. Despair doth strike as deep a furrow in the brain as mischief or remorse.
Bryan Procter
#13. 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.
Bryan Procter
#14. 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.
Bryan Procter
#15. Enter upon thy paths, O year!
Thy paths, which all who breathe must tread,
Which lead the Living to the Dead,
I enter; for it is my doom
To tread thy labyrinthine gloom;
To note who round me watch and wait;
To love a few; perhaps to hate;
And do all duties of my fate.
Bryan Procter
#16. 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.
Bryan Procter
#17. Not the rich viol, trump, cymbal, nor horn,
Guitar, nor cittern, nor the pining flute,
Are half so sweet as tender human words.
Bryan Procter
#18. Pity speaks to grief More sweetly than a band of instruments.
Bryan Procter
#19. Sing! Who sings To her who weareth a hundred rings? Ah, who is this lady fine? The Vine, boys, the Vine! The mother of the mighty Wine, A roamer is she O'er wall and tree And sometimes very good company.
Bryan Procter
#20. All round the room my silent servants wait, My friends in every season, bright and dim.
Bryan Procter
#21. 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.
Bryan Procter
#22. Touch us gently, Time!
Let us glide adown thy stream
Gently,-as we sometimes glide
Through a quiet dream!
Bryan Procter
#25. So mightiest powers buy deepest calms are fed, And sleep, how oft, in things that gentlest be!
Bryan Procter
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