Quote #20
Her cabin'd, ample Spirit, It flutter'd and fail'd for breath. To-night it doth inherit The vasty Hall of Death.
More from Matthew Arnold
- Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew. In quiet she reposes: Ah! would that I did too.
- How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves! Again - thou hearest? Eternal passion! Eternal pain!
- What actions are the most excellent? Those, certainly, which most powerfully appeal to the great primary human affections: to those element…
- Truth sits upon the lips of dying men, And falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine.
- We, in some unknown Power's employ, Move on a rigorous line; Can neither, when we will, enjoy, Nor, when we will, resign.
- I am past thirty, and three parts iced over.
- Ah! two desires toss about The poet's feverish blood; One drives him to the world without, And one to solitude.
- Sanity - that is the great virtue of the ancient literature; the want of that is the great defect of the modern, in spite of its variety an…