Samuel Taylor Coleridge

"He has no native Passion, because he is not a Thinker — & has probably weakened his Intellect by the haunting Fear of becoming extravagant."

"Moral obligation is to me so very strong a Stimulant, that in 9 cases out of ten it acts as a Narcotic. The Blow that should rouse, stuns me."

"Humour is consistent with pathos, whilst wit is not."

"It is a flat'ning Thought, that the more we have seen, the less we have to say."

"The age seems sore from excess of stimulation, just as a day or two after a thorough Debauch and long sustained Drinking-match a man feels all over like a Bruise. Even to admire otherwise than on the whole and where "I admire" is but a synonyme for "I remember, I liked it very much when I was reading it," is too much an effort, would be too disquieting an emotion!"

"Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade, Death came with friendly care; The opening bud to heaven conveyed, And bade it blossom there."

"Poor little foal of an oppressèd race! I love the languid patience of thy face."

"Blest hour! it was a luxury — to be!"

"O! the one Life, within us and abroad, Which meets all Motion, and becomes its soul, A Light in Sound, a sound-like power in Light, Rhythm in all Thought, and Joyance every where."

"And what if all of animated nature Be but organic harps diversly fram'd, That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, At once the Soul of each, and God of All?"

"O! I do love thee, meek Simplicity!"

"And this reft house is that the which he built, Lamented Jack!"

"So for the mother’s sake the child was dear, And dearer was the mother for the child."

""Most musical, most melancholy" bird! A melancholy bird! Oh! idle thought! In nature there is nothing melancholy. But some night-wandering man, whose heart was pierced With the remembrance of a grievous wrong, Or slow distemper, or neglected love, (And so, poor wretch! filled all things with himself, And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale Of his own sorrow) he, and such as he, First named these notes a melancholy strain."

"Thou rising Sun! thou blue rejoicing Sky! Yea! every thing that is and will be free! Bear witness for me, whereso'er ye be, With what deep worship I have still adored The spirit of divinest Liberty."

"Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples bare, And shot my being through earth, sea, and air, Possessing all things with intensest love, O Liberty! my spirit felt thee there."

"The frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind."

"Sea, and hill, and wood, With all the numberless goings-on of life, Inaudible as dreams!"

"Only that film, which fluttered on the grate, Still flutters there, the sole unquiet thing."

"Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee, Whether the summer clothe the general earth With greenness, or the redbreasts sit and sing Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch Of mossy apple-tree, while all the thatch Smokes in the sun-thaw: whether the eave-drops fall Heard only in the trances of the blast, Or whether the eave-drops fall Heard only in the trances of the blast, Or if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining to the quiet moon."

"Forth from his dark and lonely hiding place (Portentous-sight!) the owlet Atheism, Sailing an obscene wings athwart the noon, Drops his blue-fringèd lids, and holds them close, And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven, Cries out, "Where is it?""

"‘Alas!’ said she, ‘we ne’er can be Made happy by compulsion.’"

"Lingering he raised his latch at eve, Though tired in heart and limb: He loved no other place, and yet Home was no home to him."

"From his brimstone bed at break of day, A walking the Devil is gone, To look at his snug little farm the earth, And see how his stock goes on."

"Wahrheitsliebe heißt nicht, die Wahrheit zu sagen, sondern die Absicht, sie mitzuteilen."

"Der betet gut, wer Liebe hegt // Für alle, groß und klein! // Gott, der uns schuf, der liebt uns all', // Will allen Vater sein."