Quote #22
Truth sits upon the lips of dying men, And falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine.
More from Matthew Arnold
- How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves! Again - thou hearest? Eternal passion! Eternal pain!
- I am past thirty, and three parts iced over.
- Her cabin'd, ample Spirit, It flutter'd and fail'd for breath. To-night it doth inherit The vasty Hall of Death.
- 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…
- Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew. In quiet she reposes: Ah! would that I did too.
- For rigorous teachers seized my youth, And purged its faith, and trimm'd its fire, Show'd me the high white star of Truth, There bade me ga…
- What actions are the most excellent? Those, certainly, which most powerfully appeal to the great primary human affections: to those element…
- Wandering between two worlds, one dead, The other powerless to be born, With nowhere yet to rest my head, Like these, on earth I wait forlo…