Philip James Bailey Quotes

Could we but think with the intensity we love with, we might do great things.

He is a fool who is not for love and beauty. I speak unto the young, for I am of them and always shall be.

Night brings out stars as sorrow shows us truths.

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial.

Obey thy genius, for a minister it is unto the throne of fate. Draw to thy soul, and centralize the rays which are around of the Divinity.

The heart is its own Fate.

Nature means Necessity.

I run the gauntlet of a file of doubts, Each one of which down hurls me to the ground.

The truth is perilous never to the true, Nor knowledge to the wise; and to the fool, And to the false, error and truth alike, Error is worse than ignorance.

I cannot be content with less than heaven.

Blest is he whose heart is the home of the great dead and their great thoughts.

See the sun! God's crest upon His azure shield, the Heavens.

Stars which stand as thick as dewdrops on the field of heaven.

The dew, 'Tis of the tears which stars weep, sweet with joy.

England! my country, great and free! Heart of the world, I leap to thee!

He hath no power that hath not power to use.

The beautiful are never desolate; But some one alway loves them--God or man. If man abandons, God himself takes them.

Death is the universal salt of states; Blood is the base of all things--law and war.

Music tells no truths.

Wan night, the shadow goer, came stepping in.

And these are joys, like beauty, but skin deep.

For as nightingales do upon glow-worms feed, So poets live upon the living light.

When night hath set her silver lamp high, Then is the time for study.

The course of Nature seems a course of Death, And nothingness the whole substantial thing.

See the gold sunshine patching, And streaming and streaking across The gray-green oaks; and catching, By its soft brown beard, the moss.

Could I love less, I should be happier now.

I cannot love as I have loved, And yet I know not why; It is the one great woe of life To feel all feeling die.

Love spends his all, and still hath store.

America, thou half-brother of the world; with something good and bad of every land.

The long days are no happier than the short ones.

Poetry is itself a thing of God; He made his prophets poets; and the more We feel of poesie do we become Like God in love and power,-under-makers.

How slight a chance may raise or sink a soul!

True faith nor biddeth nor abideth form, The bended knee, the eye uplift; is all Which men need render; all which God can bear. What to the faith are forms? A passing speck, A crow upon the sky.

Ah, nothing comes to us too soon but sorrow.

All are of the race of God, and have in themselves good.

Evil is limited. One cannot form A scheme for universal evil.

Death is another life.

Music lives within thy lips Like a nightingale in roses.

All things that speak of heaven speak of peace.

Leave the poor Some time for self-improvement. Let them not Be forced to grind the bones out of their arms For bread, but have some space to think and feel Like moral and immortal creatures.

The worst way to improve the world is to condemn it.

Let us think less of men and more of God.

The wind breathes not, and the wave Walks softly as above a grave.

Life is less than nothing without love.

Love is the art of hearts, and heart or arts.

None but the brave and beautiful can love.

Dreams are rudiments Of the great state to come. We dream what is About to happen.

Application is the price to be paid for mental acquisition. To have the harvest, we must sow the seed.

The ground of all great thoughts is sadness.

Necessity, like electricity, is in ourselves and all things, and no more without us than within us.