Gerard Manley Hopkins Quotes
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Natural heart's ivy, Patience masks Our ruins of wrecked past purpose.
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Crystal sincerity hath found no shelter but in a fool's cap.
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No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.
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The effect of studying masterpieces is to make me admire and do otherwise.
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Religion, you know, enters very deep; in reality it is the deepest impression I have in speaking to people, that they are or that they are not of my religion.
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I hold with the old-fashioned criticism that Browning is not really a poet, that he has all the gifts but the one needful and the pearls without the string; rather one should say raw nuggets and rough diamonds.
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Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the Stooks arise Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behavior Of silk-sack clouds! Has wilder, willful-waiver Meal-drift molded ever and melted across skies?
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I have desired to go Where springs not fail, To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail And a few lilies blow.
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Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just. Why do sinners' ways prosper? and why must Disappointment all I endeavour end?
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The Indian gods are imposing, the Greek gods are not. Indeed they are not brave, not self-controlled, they have no manners, they are not gentlemen and ladies.
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Nothing is so beautiful as spring - when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.
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But . . . I may as well say what I should not otherwise have said, that I always knew in my heart Walt Whitman’s mind to be more like my own than any other man’s living. As he is a very great scoundrel this is not a pleasant confession.
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My own heart let me more have pity on; let Me live to my sad self hereafter kind, Charitable; not live this tormented mind With this tormented mind tormenting yet.
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Lovely the woods, waters, meadows, combes, vales, All the air things wear that build this world of Wales.
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The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
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O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed.
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What you look at hard seems to look at you.
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And I have asked to be Where no storms come, Where the green swell is in the havens dumb, And out of the swing of the sea.
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I awoke in the Midsummer not-to-call night, in the white and the walk of the morning
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Birds buildbut not I build; no, but strain, Time's eunuch, and not breed one work that wakes. Mine,O thou lord of life, send my roots rain.
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I do not think I have ever seen anything more beautiful than the bluebell I have been looking at. I know the beauty of our Lord by it.
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That piecemeal peace is poor peace. What pure peace allows Alarms of wars, the daunting wars, the death of it?
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I find myself both as man and as myself something more determined and distinctive, at pitch, more distinctive and higher pitched than anything else I see.
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By the by, if the English race had done nothing else, yet if they left the world the notion of a gentleman, they would have done a great service to mankind.