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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.

-Philip James Bailey

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I Cannot Love As

Philip James Bailey

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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.

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What Are Ye Orbs? The Words Of God? The Scriptures Of The Skies?

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.

Man Is A Military Animal, Glories In Gunpowder, And Loves Parade.

Corruption Springs From Light: 'tis One Same Power Creates, Preserves, Destroys; Matter Whereon It Works, On E'er Self-transmutative Form, Common To Now The Living, Now The Dead.

The Beautiful Are Never Desolate; But Some One Alway Loves Them--god Or Man. If Man Abandons, God Himself Takes Them.

England! My Country, Great And Free! Heart Of The World, I Leap To Thee!

Application Is The Price To Be Paid For Mental Acquisition. To Have The Harvest, We Must Sow The Seed.

Look On The Bee Upon The Wing 'mong Flowers; How Brave, How Bright His Life! Then Mark, Him Hiv'd, Cramp'd, Cringing In His Self-built, Social Cell, Thus It Is In The World-hive; Most Where Men Lie Deep In Cities As In Drifts.

Evil Is Limited. One Cannot Form A Scheme For Universal Evil.

The Worst Men Often Give The Best Advice. Our Deeds Are Sometimes Better Than Our Thoughts.

Who Can Mistake Great Thoughts? They Seize Upon The Mind; Arrest And Search, And Shake It; Bow The Tall Soul As By Wind; Rush Over It Like A River Reeds.

The Goodness Of The Heart Is Shown In Deeds Of Peacefulness And Kindness. Hand And Heart Are One Thing With The Good, As Thou Should'st Be. Do My Words Trouble Thee? Then Treasure Them, Pain Overgot Gives Peace, As Death Doth Heaven. All Things That Speak Of Heaven Speak Of Peace.

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.

Fine Thoughts Are Wealth, For The Right Use Of Which Men Are And Ought To Be Accountable,-- If Not To Thee, To Those They Influence.

Night Brings Out Stars As Sorrow Shows Us Truths.

America, Thou Half-brother Of The World; With Something Good And Bad Of Every Land.

Death Is The Universal Salt Of States; Blood Is The Base Of All Things--law And War.

Star Canto: Star Speaks Light, And World To World Repeats The Passage Of The Universe To God; The Name Of Christ--the One Great Word Well Worth All Languages In Earth Or Heaven.

The Course Of Nature Seems A Course Of Death, And Nothingness The Whole Substantial Thing.

One Thought Settles A Life, An Immortality.

Hell Is More Bearable Than Nothingness.

Poets Are All Who Love, Who Feel Great Truths, And Tell Them; And The Truth Of Truths Is Love.

Art Is A Man's Nature; Nature Is God's Art.

There Is No Disappointment We Endure One-half So Great As What We Are To Ourselves.

We Live Not To Ourselves, Our Work Is Life.

For Ivy Climbs The Crumbling Hall To Decorate Decay.

Naught But God Can Satisfy The Soul.

Where Imperfection Ceaseth, Heaven Begins.

Perfection And Imperfection

Wan Night, The Shadow Goer, Came Stepping In.

Love Spends His All, And Still Hath Store.

Fulfill Thy Fate! Be-do-bear-and Thank God.

Write To The Mind And Heart, And Let The Ear Glean After What It Can.

Dreams Are Rudiments Of The Great State To Come. We Dream What Is About To Happen.

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.

Let Us Think Less Of Men And More Of God.

Oh, Could We Lift The Future's Sable Shroud.

All Are Of The Race Of God, And Have In Themselves Good.

Burn To Be Great, Pay Not Thy Praise To Lofty Things Alone. The Plains Are Everlasting As The Hills, The Bard Cannot Have Two Pursuits; Aught Else Comes On The Mind With The Like Shock As Though Two Worlds Had Gone To War, And Met In Air.

Music Lives Within Thy Lips Like A Nightingale In Roses.

Remember That Thy Heart Will Shed Its Pleasures As Thine Eye Its Tears, And Both Leave Loathsome Furrows.

Ah, Nothing Comes To Us Too Soon But Sorrow.

The Long Days Are No Happier Than The Short Ones.

We Live In Deeds, Not Years; In Thoughts, Not Breaths; In Feelings, Not In Figures On A Dial.

Men Might Be Better If We Better Deemed Of Them.

We Live In Deeds, Not Years; In Thoughts, Not Figures On A Dial. We Should Count Time By Heart Throbs. He Most Lives Who Thinks Most, Feels The Noblest, Acts The Best.

Could I Love Less, I Should Be Happier Now.

Love Is The Art Of Hearts, And Heart Or Arts.

Let Each Man Think Himself An Act Of God, His Mind A Thought, His Life A Breath Of God; And Let Each Try, By Great Thoughts And Good Deeds, To Show The Most Of Heaven He Hath In Him.

Not A Single Path Of Thought I Tread, But That It Leads To God.

Lowliness Is The Base Of Every Virtue, And He Who Goes The Lowest Builds The Safest.

The Hero Is The World-man, In Whose Heart One Passion Stands For All, The Most Indulged.

Joys Are Bubble-like--what Makes Them Bursts Them Too.

Night Comes, World-jewelled, . . . The Stars Rush Forth In Myriads As To Wage War With The Lines Of Darkness; And The Moon, Pale Ghost Of Night, Comes Haunting The Cold Earth After The Sun's Red Sea-death--quietless.

The Death-bed Of A Day, How Beautiful!

Tis Light Translateth Night; 'tis Inspiration Expounds Experience; 'tis The West Explains The East; 'tis Time Unfolds Eternity.

The Worst Way To Improve The World Is To Condemn It.

He Hath No Power That Hath Not Power To Use.

How Slight A Chance May Raise Or Sink A Soul!

The Death-change Comes. Death Is Another Life. We Bow Our Heads At Going Out, We Think, And Enter Straight Another Golden Chamber Of The King's Larger Than This We Leave, And Lovelier. And Then In Shadowy Glimpses, Disconnect, The Story, Flower-like, Closes Thus Its Leaves. The Will Of God Is All In All. He Makes, Destroys, Remakes, For His Own Pleasure, All.

Thou Art A Woman, And That Is Saying The Best And Worst Of Thee.

Words Are The Motes Of Thought, And Nothing More.

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.

And These Are Joys, Like Beauty, But Skin Deep.

Blessings Star Forth Forever; But A Curse Is Like A Cloud, It Passes.

The Sun, Centre And Sire Of Light, The Keystone Of The World-built Arch Of Heaven.

Error Is Worse Than Ignorance.

It Is Fine To Stand Upon Some Lofty Mountain Thought, And Feel The Spirit Stretch Into A View.

The Ground Of All Great Thoughts Is Sadness.

The Temples Perish, But The God Still Lives.

I Cannot Be Content With Less Than Heaven.

Evil Then Results From Imperfection.

The Heart Is Its Own Fate.

I Run The Gauntlet Of A File Of Doubts, Each One Of Which Down Hurls Me To The Ground.

Evil And Good Are God's Right Hand And Left.

When Night Hath Set Her Silver Lamp High, Then Is The Time For Study.

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.

The Poet's Pen Is The True Divining Rod Which Trembles Towards The Inner Founts Of Feeling; Bringing To Light And Use, Else Hid From All, The Many Sweet Clear Sources Which We Have Of Good And Beauty In Our Own Deep Bosoms; And Marks The Variations Of All Mind As Does The Needle.

Worthy Books Are Not Companions – They Are Solitudes: We Lose Ourselves In Them And All Our Cares.

Envy's A Coal Comes Hissing Hot From Hell.

For As Nightingales Do Upon Glow-worms Feed, So Poets Live Upon The Living Light.

We Must Not Pluck Death From The Maker's Hand.

We Love And Live In Power; It Is The Spirit's End. Mind Must Subdue; To Conquer Is Its Life.

As The Master So The Valet.

Doubt Is The Shadow Of Truth.

Surely The Stars Are Images Of Love.

The First And Worst Of All Frauds Is To Cheat One's Self.

Kindness Is Wisdom. There Is None In Life But Needs It And May Learn.

See The Sun! God's Crest Upon His Azure Shield, The Heavens.

Respect Is What We Owe; Love, What We Give.

Grief Hallows Hearts, Even While It Ages Heads.

Life Hath More Awe Than Death.

Simplicity Is Natures First Step, And The Last Of Art.

The Dew, 'tis Of The Tears Which Stars Weep, Sweet With Joy.

All Things That Speak Of Heaven Speak Of Peace.

Youth Might Be Wise; We Suffer Less From Pains Than Pleasures.

Where Doubt There Truth Is - 'tis Her Shadow.

It Matters Not How Long We Live But How.

None But God Can Fill The Perfect Whole.

When Pride Thaws, Look For Floods.

See The Gold Sunshine Patching, And Streaming And Streaking Across The Gray-green Oaks; And Catching, By Its Soft Brown Beard, The Moss.

Ask Not Of Me, Love, What Is Love? Ask What Is Good Of God Above; Ask Of The Great Sun What Is Light; Ask What Is Darkness Of The Night; Ask Sin Of What May Be Forgiven; Ask What Is Happiness Of Heaven; Ask What Is Folly Of The Crowd; Ask What Is Fashion Of The Shroud; Ask What Is Sweetness Of Thy Kiss; Ask Of Thyself What Beauty Is.

When I Forget That The Stars Shine In Air-- When I Forget That Beauty Is In Stars-- When I Forget That Love With Beauty Is-- Will I Forget Thee: Till Then All Things Else.

Blest Is He Whose Heart Is The Home Of The Great Dead And Their Great Thoughts.

It Is Sad To See The Light Of Beauty Wane Away, Know Eyes Are Dimming, Bosoms Shrivelling, Feet Losing Their Springs, And Limbs Their Lily Roundness; But It Is Worse To Feel The Heart-spring Gone, To Lose Hope, Care Not For The Coming Thing, And Feel All Things Go To Decay Within Us.

Sorrow Is A Stone That Crushes A Single Bearer To The Ground, While Two Are Able To Carry It With Ease.

The Value Of A Thought Cannot Be Told.

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.

Music Tells No Truths.

Death, Thou Art Infinite; It Is Life Is Little.

I Am Tired Of Looking On What Is, One Might As Well See Beauty Never More, As Look Upon It With An Empty Eye. I Would This World Were Over. I Am Tired.

He Who Has Most Of Heart Knows Most Of Sorrow.

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.

Every Believer Is God's Miracle.

Life's But A Means Unto An End, That End, Beginning, Mean, And End To All Things--god.

Death Is Another Life.

It Is No Great Misfortune To Oblige Ungrateful People, But An Unsupportable One To Be Forced To Be Under An Obligation To A Scoundrel.

Ungrateful People

Could We But Think With The Intensity We Love With, We Might Do Great Things.

The Wind Breathes Not, And The Wave Walks Softly As Above A Grave.

Nature Means Necessity.

Hell Is The Wrath Of God--his Hate Of Sin.

What Men Call Accident Is God's Own Part.

Necessity, Like Electricity, Is In Ourselves And All Things, And No More Without Us Than Within Us.

None But The Brave And Beautiful Can Love.

O, There Is Naught On Earth Worth Being Known But God And Our Own Souls!

Imagination Is The Air Of Mind.

I Cannot Be Content With Less Than Heaven; Living, And Comprehensive Of All Life. Thee, Universal Heaven, Celestial All; Thee, Sacrjd Seat Of Intellective Time; Field Of The Soul 's Best Wisdom : Home Of Truth , Star-throned.

The Strongest Passion Which I Have Is Honor.

Prayer Is The Spirit Speaking Truth To Truth.

Walk Boldly And Wisely.... There Is A Hand Above That Will Help You On.

Stars Which Stand As Thick As Dewdrops On The Field Of Heaven.

The World Is A Great Poem, And The World's The Words It Is Writ In, And We Souls The Thoughts.

It Is Much Less What We Do Than What We Think, Which Fits Us For The Future.

Life Is As Serious A Thing As Death.

Life Is Less Than Nothing Without Love.

Any Heart Turned Godward Feels More Joyin One Short Hour Of Prayer, Than E'er Was Raisedby All The Feasts Of Earth Since Its Foundation.

Mind And Night Will Meet, Though In Silence, Like Forbidden Lovers.

Dewdrops, Nature's Tears, Which She Sheds In Her Own Breast For The Fair Which Die. The Sun Insists On Gladness; But At Night, When He Is Gone, Poor Nature Loves To Weep.

A Poet Not In Love Is Out At Sea; He Must Have A Lay-figure.

Dear Lord, Our God And Saviour! For Thy Gifts The World Were Poor In Thanks, Though Every Soul Were To Do Nought But Breathe Them, Every Blade Of Grass, And Every Atomie Of Earth To Utter It Like Dew.

The Sole Equality On Earth Is Death.

There Is No Surer Mark Of The Absence Of The Highest Moral And Intellectual Qualities Than A Cold Reception Of Excellence.

The Truth Of Truths Is Love.

I Have A Heart With Room For Every Joy .

My Favoured Temple Is An Humble Heart.

Lips Like Rosebuds Peeping Out Of Snow.

If All Were Rich, Gold Would Be Penniless.

Man Is One; And He Hath One Great Heart. It Is Thus We Feel, With A Gigantic Throb Athwart The Sea, Each Other's Rights And Wrongs; Thus Are We Men.

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