All Quotes

"Then let my winds caress thee — Thy comrade let me be — Since naught beside can bless thee Return and dwell with me —"

"He comes with western winds, with evening's wandering airs, With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars; Winds take a pensive tone and stars a tender fire And visions rise and change which kills me with desire."

"But first a hush of peace, a soundless calm descends; The struggle of distress and fierce impatience ends Mute music sooths my breast — unuttered harmony That I could never dream till earth was lost to me. Then dawns the Invisible; the Unseen its truth reveals; My outward sense is gone, my inward essence feels — Its wings are almost free, it is home, its harbor found; Measuring the gulf, it stoops and dares the final bound — O, dreadful is the check — intense the agony When the ear begins to hear and the eye begins to see; When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again, The soul to feel the flesh and the flesh to feel the chain. Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less; The more that anguish racks the earlier it will bless; And robed in fires of Hell, or bright with heavenly shine If it but herald Death, the vision is divine —"

"What use is it to slumber here: Though the heart be sad and weary? What use is it to slumber here Though the day rise dark and dreary?"

"For that mist may break when the sun is high And this soul forget its sorrow And the rose ray of the closing day May promise a brighter morrow."

"Love is like the wild rose-briar; Friendship like the holly-tree. The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms, But which will bloom most constantly?"

"Still, as I mused, the naked room, The alien firelight died away; And from the midst of cheerless gloom I passed to bright, unclouded day."

"A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air; And, deepening still the dreamlike charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere."

"When weary with the long day's care, And earthly change from pain to pain, And lost and ready to despair, Thy kind voice calls me back again: Oh, my true friend! I am not lone, While thou canst speak with such a tone!"

"So hopeless is the world without; The world within I doubly prize; Thy world, where guile, and hate, and doubt, And cold suspicion never rise; Where thou, and I, and Liberty, Have undisputed sovereignty."

"What matters it, that, all around, Danger, and guilt, and darkness lie, If but within our bosom's bound We hold a bright, untroubled sky, Warm with ten thousand mingled rays Of suns that know no winter days?"

"Reason, indeed, may oft complain For Nature's sad reality, And tell the suffering heart, how vain Its cherished dreams must always be; And Truth may rudely trample down The flowers of Fancy, newly-blown:"

"But, thou art ever there, to bring The hovering vision back, and breathe New glories o'er the blighted spring, And call a lovelier Life from Death, And whisper, with a voice divine, Of real worlds, as bright as thine."

"I trust not to thy phantom bliss, Yet, still, in evening's quiet hour, With never-failing thankfulness, I welcome thee, Benignant Power; Sure solacer of human cares, And sweeter hope, when hope despairs!"

"Cold in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee, Far, far, removed, cold in the dreary grave! Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?"

"Cold in the earth—and fifteen wild Decembers, From those brown hills, have melted into spring: Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers After such years of change and suffering!"

"Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee, While the world's tide is bearing me along; Other desires and other hopes beset me, Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!"

"But when the days of golden dreams had perished, And even Despair was powerless to destroy; Then did I learn how existence could be cherished, Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy."

"The winter wind is loud and wild, Come close to me, my darling child; Forsake thy books, and mateless play; And, while the night is gathering grey, We'll talk its pensive hours away;—"

"Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down."

"We love the things we love for what they are."

"No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere: I see Heaven's glories shine, And Faith shines equal, arming me from Fear. O God within my breast, Almighty, ever-present Deity! Life — that in me has rest, As I — undying Life — have power in Thee! Vain are the thousand creeds That move men's hearts: unutterably vain; Worthless as withered weeds, Or idlest froth amid the boundless main."

"The trade of governing has always been monopolized by the most ignorant and the most rascally individuals of mankind."

"The supposed quietude of a good man allures the ruffian; while on the other hand, arms, like laws, discourage and keep the invader and the plunderer in awe, and preserve order in the world as well as property. The balance of power is the scale of peace. The same balance would be preserved were all the world destitute of arms, for all would be alike; but since some will not, others dare not lay them aside. And while a single nation refuses to lay them down, it is proper that all should keep them up. Horrid mischief would ensue were one-half the world deprived of the use of them; for while avarice and ambition have a place in the heart of man, the weak will become a prey to the strong. The history of every age and nation establishes these truths, and facts need but little arguments when they prove themselves."

"Give to every other human being every right that you claim for yourself—that is my doctrine."

"The World is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion."

"You know that the unanimity of the States finally depended on the vote of Joseph Hewes, and was finally determined by him. And yet history is to ascribe the American Revolution to Thomas Paine! Sat verbum sapienti ["a word to the wise is sufficient"]."

"Without the pen of Paine, the sword of Washington would have been wielded in vain."

"I know not whether any man in the world has had more influence on its inhabitants or affairs for the last thirty years than Tom Paine."

"He has no country, no affections that constitute the pillars of patriotism."

"Free trade as a plebeian creed had a long tradition going back to the Levellers and Thomas Paine – who had worked out a sort of pre-Cobdenite philosophy of history based on peace, retrenchment, international free trade, and disarmament."

"Thomas Paine has not only been long actuated by, but that he formerly gloried in avowing, an implacable animosity and rooted hatred to this country; and that not merely to its Government, but to its interests, its welfare, its national character, its national honour, its commercial and naval greatness."

"The neglected pioneer of one revolution, the honoured victim of another, brave to the point of folly, and as humane as he was brave, no man in his generation preached republican virtue in better English, nor lived it with a finer disregard of self."

"I consider Paine our greatest political person. As we have not advanced, and perhaps never shall advance, beyond the Declaration and Constitution, so Paine has had no successors who extended his principles."

"What more, in 1791, could be necessary, to vindicate Burke's Cassandra-like Reflections on the French Revolution, than the publication and ominous popularity of Tom Paine's Rights of Man? Such a book it was, that a generation later Newman's pupils took it as evidence of a singular strength of mind in their tutor that he was known to have read and to possess a copy. He kept it, indeed, under lock and key and let it out only to those who, he was assured, could come to no harm in consequence."

"My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure."

"...none can truly write his single day, And none can write it for him upon earth."

"Thomas Paine was the most far-seeing Englishman of the eighteenth century... [H]e remains the major prophet of democracy and representative government... Almost a century before Lincoln he sought to write into the American Constitution a clause against slavery. Long before John Stuart Mill, he championed the rights of women. He was among the very first of English writers to espouse the cause of Indian freedom. Well ahead of my old friends, Dick Crossman or Barbara Castle, he had a good plan for old age pensions. And how men in all our modern parties might tremble at his proposals for land nationalisation; he wanted new laws for marriage and divorce. International arbitration, family allowances, maternity benefits, free education, prison reform, full employment—yes much of the future the Labour Party has offered was previously on offer, in much better English, from Thomas Paine."

"As a man of words and a man of action combined, no other figure of this century could match the way he would take all national frontiers in his stride. He was the first who could properly call himself a citizen of the world, and who sought to translate his claim into action. Amazingly, some of his supposedly less well-educated contemporaries saw all this quite clearly when it was concealed from their terrified rulers. Soon after the publication of The Rights of Man in 1791 one of his Yorkshire disciples wrote: ‘Our views of The Rights of Man are not confined solely to this small island but are extended to the whole human race, black or white, high or low.’ That was the true Paineite doctrine; it was no accident that the American Paine was one of the first to denounce slavery and the English Paine one of the first to describe the lineaments of the welfare state."

"He was emphatic that the Bible was mostly "a history of the grossest vices, and a collection of the most paltry and contemptible tales" so that, he said, "I cannot dishonour my Creator by calling it by his name". The true word of God, rather, was the nature He had made: "THE WORD OF GOD IS THE CREATION WE BEHOLD". Paine's view that Christianity was false legitimated his political radicalism, in that to his mind it deprived inegalitarian political arrangements of their buttress. Christianity, in his view, had adapted paganism to the assistance of the great, so that "the Christian theory is little else than the idolatry of the ancient Mythologists, accommodated to the purposes of power and revenue". In his view compulsory religion and oppressive states were brethren. It is clear, besides, that proselytizing for deism was important to Paine as an activity in itself. It is easy to see that he conceived a series of artificial hierarchies, mutually supportive and all equally against nature... [H]e viewed Christianity as their intellectual type and political foundation, so that its destruction and supersession by deism were central to his enterprise. About one-quarter of his works was devoted to theology."

"As an act of kindness Mr. Woodsworth visited Mr. Paine every day for six weeks before his death. He frequently sat up with him, and did so on the last two nights of his life. He was always there with Dr. Manley, the physician, and assisted in removing Mr. Paine while his bed was prepared. He was present when Dr. Manley asked Mr. Paine "if he wished to believe that Jesus Christ was the Son of God," and he describes Mr. Paine's answer as animated. He says that lying on his back he used some action and with much emphasis, replied, "I have no wish to believe on that subject." He lived some time after this, but was not known to speak, for he died tranquilly."

"Thomas Paine had passed the legendary limit of life. One by one most of his old friends and acquaintances had deserted him. Maligned on every side, execrated, shunned and abhorred – his virtues denounced as vices – his services forgotten – his character blackened, he preserved the poise and balance of his soul. He was a victim of the people, but his convictions remained unshaken. He was still a soldier in the army of freedom, and still tried to enlighten and civilize those who were impatiently waiting for his death. Even those who loved their enemies hated him, their friend – the friend of the whole world – with all their hearts. On the 8th of June, 1809, death came – Death, almost his only friend. At his funeral no pomp, no pageantry, no civic procession, no military display. In a carriage, a woman and her son who had lived on the bounty of the dead – on horseback, a Quaker, the humanity of whose heart dominated the creed of his head – and, following on foot, two negroes filled with gratitude – constituted the funeral cortege of Thomas Paine."

"It was the American Revolution's patriot and pamphleteer, Thomas Paine... who launched the social-democratic tradition in the 1790s. In his pamphlets, Rights of Man and Agrarian Justice, Paine outlined plans for combating poverty that would become what we today call Social Security. As Paine put it in the latter work, since God has provided the earth and the land upon it as a collective endowment for humanity, those who have come to possess the land as private property owe the dispossessed an annual rent for it. Specifically, Paine delineated a limited redistribution of income by way of a tax on landed wealth and property. The funds collected were to provide both grants for young people to get started in life and pensions for the elderly."

"In 1776, Tom Paine wrote in his rabble-rousing pamphlet Common Sense, "It is the good fortune of many to live distant from the scene of sorrow." Well, the distance is closing, and soon enough no one will be safe from the sorrow of ecocide."

"Thomas Paine may have exaggerated when he said his pamphlet Common Sense was the most successful publication “since the invention of printing,” but only by a little. Published 250 years ago last week, Common Sense is perhaps the most consequential piece of political writing in American history. At a moment when hostilities with Britain had already commenced but many still entertained hopes of reconciliation, it made a forceful and seemingly irrefutable argument for independence. As the Atlantic writer Frederick Sheldon wrote in an 1859 portrait of Paine, many Americans “stood shivering on the banks of the Rubicon” at the beginning of 1776. Common Sense helped them cross it. Reading it now, Paine’s words are a kind of portal back to the Revolutionary moment. Although Common Sense is an 18th-century text with 18th-century language and preoccupations, a live current still runs through it. To revisit what Paine captured as a turning point in human history is to be reminded of the most expansive possibilities of the American idea at its creation."

"I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men, Who hold their hands to all, and cry For that which all deny them — Who sweep the crossings, wet or dry, And all the world go by them."

"Paine was an unlikely spokesman for American independence. When he wrote Common Sense, he’d only recently arrived in America from England. He was 37, and mostly a failure after turns as a staymaker (an artisan who made corsets), teacher, shopkeeper, and tax collector. The two things Paine was best at—talking and writing—had at least landed him in useful company in London, and he’d left for Philadelphia late in 1774 bearing a letter of introduction from no less a patron than Benjamin Franklin. Not long after his arrival, Paine began editing the weekly Pennsylvania Magazine, taking on the horrors of slavery, the unwelcome presence of British troops, the prospects of defensive war, and the trials of marriage (another venture in which he had failed). With Common Sense, Paine, in the words of the American general Charles Lee, “burst upon the world like Jove, in thunder.” First issued on January 10, 1776, it was printed up and down the colonies in some 25 editions over the course of the year. Paine would later claim that it sold 150,000 copies, making it the best-selling “performance” since “the use of letters.” Whatever the figures, if Common Sense didn’t single-handedly convert Americans to independence, it gave words to growing feelings. As a Massachusetts man wrote to Paine, “every sentiment has sunk into my well-prepared heart.”"

"It did not do so by accident. Paine crafted Common Sense as a kind of talking book; its pages are alive with the voices and scenes of the Revolutionary moment. John Adams complained that Common Sense sounded like it was written by a former inmate of London’s notorious Newgate Prison, “or one who had chiefly associated with such company.” For Paine, this was high praise. He wished for Common Sense to sound like what one might hear in the tavern, the shop, the coffeehouse, or the street. Anticipating public readings, he fashioned the text as something of a script, adding italics and capitals to direct its performers to catch its cadences and hurl its barbs: “The blood of the slain, the weeping voice of nature cries, ’TIS TIME TO PART.” Paine’s argument for parting was as powerful as his language. His reasoning began with an indictment of the whole institution of monarchy (which he called “the most prosperous invention the Devil ever set on foot for the promotion of idolatry.”) What monarchy’s devotees claimed as natural and divine, Paine described as a crime of history. The first king? He was the “chief among plunderers” and “nothing better than the principal ruffian of some restless gang.” Such rhetoric announced a marked turn in the discourse on America’s relation to Britain, both in tone and target. Previously, the debate involved the abstract language of political theory and had largely focused on the question of Parliament’s authority over the colonies. Paine’s anti-monarchy appeal at once simplified the case and made it more democratic, shaking the foundations of a world defined by rigid hierarchies."

"For even some American leaders, such ideas were dangerously subversive. Adams, who recognized Paine’s genius but feared his book’s influence, called Paine a “disastrous meteor” whose appearance portended disorder and tumult. Paine wasn’t merely making a case against monarchy and for American independence—he was offering a thrilling vision of America as a refuge for liberty and equality, a laboratory for self-government, independent not just from Britain but from all the existing institutions that kept people in their places. “We have it in our power to begin the world over again,” he announced. “The birthday of a new world is at hand.” This year, the 250th birthday of the nation Paine helped write into existence is at hand. But with a leader who yearns for the powers of a king and an administration working to discount the currency of our most Revolutionary ideals, we seem to be reverting to the old world Paine wished to bury. His pamphlet, a provocation then, is perhaps the provocation we need now. It remains true that “men who look upon themselves born to reign, and others to obey, soon grow insolent.” It is not theoretical that some figure “laying hold of popular disquietudes, may collect together the desperate and the discontented, and by assuming themselves the powers of government, may sweep away the liberties of the continent like a deluge.” And as freedom is being “hunted around the globe,” we would do well to remember that America was born, in aspiration at least, as a home for the fugitive and “an asylum for mankind.”"

"When I came home from church, for a while, my father insisted on reading aloud to me from Thomas Paine's The Age of Reason-a diatribe against institutional religion."