189 match(es) found in quotations

Sidney Lanier :
And my spirit is grown to a lordly great compass within, That the length and the breadth and the sweep of the marshes of Glynn Will work me no fear like the fear they have wrought me of yore When length was failure, and when breadth was but bitterness sore, And when terror and shrinking and dreary unnamable pain Drew over me out of the merciless miles of the plain,— Oh, now, unafraid, I am fain to face The vast sweet visage of space.
[Sidney Lanier (1842-1881), U.S. poet. The Marshes of Glynn (l. 11-16). . . Oxford Book of American Verse, The. F. O. Matthiessen, ed. (1950) Oxford University Press.]
Read more quotations about / on: fear, pain, work
Walt Whitman :
I was asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon lo! upsprang the aboriginal name. Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient, I see that the word of my city is that word from of old, Because I see that word nested in nests of water-bays, superb, Rich, hemm'd thick all around with sailships and steamships, an island sixteen miles long, solid-founded,
[Walt Whitman (1819-1892), U.S. poet. Mannahatta (l. 1-6). . . The Complete Poems [Walt Whitman]. Francis Murphy, ed. (1975; repr. 1986) Penguin Books.]
Read more quotations about / on: city, island, perfect, water
Thomas Buchanan Read :
Up from the South at break of day, Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, Telling the battle was on once more, And Sheridan twenty miles away.
[Thomas Buchanan Read (1822-1872), U.S. poet. Sheridan's Ride (l. 1-7). . . Our Holidays in Poetry. Mildred P. Harrington and Josephine H. Thomas, comps. (1929) The H. W. Wilson Company.]
Gary Snyder :
I cannot remember things I once read A few friends, but they are in cities. Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup Looking down for miles Through high still air.
[Gary Snyder (b. 1930), U.S. poet. Mid-August at Sourdough Mountain Lookout (l. 6-10). . . No Nature; New and Selected Poems [Gary Snyder]. (1992) Pantheon Books.]
Read more quotations about / on: snow, remember, cold, water
Lao-Tzu :
A tree that can fill the span of a man's arms Grows from a downy tip; A terrace nine stories high Rises from hodfuls of earth; A journey of a thousand miles Starts from beneath one's feet.
[Lao-Tzu (6th century B.C.), Chinese philosopher. Tao-te-ching, bk. 2, ch. 64, trans. by T.C. Lau (1963).]
Read more quotations about / on: journey, tree
Robert Frost :
Yours are no common feet. The lawyer don't know what it is he's buying: So many miles you might have walked you won't walk. You haven't run your forty orchids down.
[Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Self-Seeker."]
Allen Tate :
And then he heard some old forgotten talk At a short distance like a hundred miles Filling the air with its secrecy, And was afraid of all the living air....
[Allen Tate (1899-1979), U.S. poet, critic. "Records."]
Robert Frost :
But the flower leaned aside And thought of naught to say, And morning found the breeze A hundred miles away.
[Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Wind and Window Flower."]
Read more quotations about / on: flower
Henry David Thoreau :
Just before reaching the lighthouse, we saw the sun set in the Bay,—for standing on that narrow cape was, as I have said, like being on the deck of a vessel, or rather at the masthead of a man-of-war, thirty miles at sea, though we knew that at the same moment the sun was setting behind our native hills, which were just below the horizon in that direction. This sight drove everything else quite out of our heads, and Homer and the Ocean came in again with a rush,— Ev d' epes' Okeanoi lampron phaos eelioio, the shining torch of the sun fell into the ocean.
[Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), U.S. philosopher, author, naturalist. Cape Cod (1855-1865), in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 4, p. 149, Houghton Mifflin (1906).]
Read more quotations about / on: sun, ocean, sea, war
Robert Frost :
But now he snapped his eyes three times; Then shook his lantern, saying, "He's 'Bout out!" and took the long way home By road, a matter of several miles.
[Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Brown's Descent."]
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