The Quotations Home Page
The Other Pages | Quotations Home Page
Quotations #12:  from Poetry
Quotation Categories | Search Suggestions

Browse by last name:   A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z

- M -
  1. Holidays should always be like this,
    Free from over-emphasis,
    Time for soul to stretch and spit
    Before the world comes back on it.
       Louis MacNeice, Epilogue for W.H. Auden (1936)


  2. She comes like the husht beauty of the night
    And sees too deep for laughter;
    Her touch is a vibration and a light
    From worlds before and after.
       Ernest Markham


  3. Is it not passing brave to be a king,
    And ride in triumph through Persepolis?
       Christopher Marlowe, Tamburlaine, Part I: II, v, 53-54

  4.           the ripest fruit of all,
    That perfect bliss and sole felicity,
    The sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
       Christopher Marlowe, Tamburlaine, Part I: II, vii, 27-29

  5. Blood is the god of war's rich livery."
       Christopher Marlowe, Tamburlaine, Part II: III, ii, 116

  6. Why this is hell, nor am I out of it.
    Think'st thou that I who saw the face of God
    And tasted the eternal joys of heaven
    Am not tormented with ten thousand hells
    In being deprived of everlasting bliss?"
       Christopher Marlowe, Dr. Faustus, Part , I, iii, 76-80

  7. Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss."
       Christopher Marlowe, Dr. Faustus, V, i, 101

  8.           Ah, Faustus,
    Now hast thou but one bare hour to live,
    And then thou must be damned perpetually.
    Stand still, you ever-moving spheres of heaven,
    That time may cease and midnight never come.
    Fair nature's eye, rise, rise again, and make
    Perpetual day; or let this hour be but
    A year, a month, a week, a natural day,
    That Faustus may repent and save his soul.
    O lente, lente currite noctis equi!
    [O slowly, slowly run, horses of night!]
    The stars move still; time runs; the clock will strike;
    The devil will come, and Faustus must be damned.
    O, I'll leap up to my God! Who pulls me down?
    See, see, where Christ's blood streams in the firmament!
    One drop would save my soul, half a drop!"
       Christopher Marlowe, Dr. Faustus, V, ii, 130-144

  9. Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,
    And burned the topless towers of Ilium?
       Christopher Marlowe, Dr. Faustus

  10. It lies not in our power to love or hate,
    For will in us is overrul'd by fate.
       Christopher Marlowe, Hero and Leander,"First Sestiad," 167-168

  11. Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?
       Christopher Marlowe, Hero and Leander,"First Sestiad," 176

  12. O none but gods have power their love to hide;
    Affection by the count'nance is descri'd.
    The light of hidden fire itself discovers,
    And love that is conceal'd betrays poor lovers.
       Christopher Marlowe, Hero and Leander,"Second Sestiad," 131-134

  13. Love is too full of faith, too credulous,
    With folly and false hope deluding us.
       Christopher Marlowe, Hero and Leander,"Second Sestiad," 221-222


  14. But at my back I always hear
    Time's winged chariot hurrying near . . . .
       Andrew Marvell, To His Coy Mistress

  15. The grave's a fine and private place,
    But none I think do there embrace.
       Andrew Marvell, To His Coy Mistress

  16. The same Arts that did gain
    A Pow'r must it maintain.
       Andrew Marvell, An Horation Ode Upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland


  17. I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
    And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
    And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
    And a gray mist on the sea's face and a gray dawn breaking.
       John Masefield, from Sea Fever


  18. Yesterday upon the stair
    I met a man who wasn't there.
    He wasn't there again today
    Oh how I wish he'd go away.
       Hughes Mearns

  19. As I was sitting in my chair,
    I knew the bottom wasn't there,
    Nor legs nor back, but I just sat,
    Ignoring little things like that.
       Hughes Mearns


  20. The warm sea fondled with the shore
    And laid his white face on the sands.
       Joaquin Miller, The Last Taschastas, Part ii


  21. The mind is its own place, and in itself
    Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n.
       John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book I

  22. To reign is worth ambition though in hell:
    Better to reign in hell, than serve in heav'n.
       John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book I

  23. For neither man nor angel can discern
    Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks
    Invisible, except to God alone . . . .
       John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book III

  24. Her rash hand in evil hour
    Forth reaching to the fruit, she plucked, she eat:
    Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat
    Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe,
    That all was lost.
       John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book IX

  25. She gave him of that fair enticing fruit
    With liberal hand: he scrupled not to eat
    Against his better knowledge, not deceived,
    But fondly overcome with female charm.
       John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book IX

  26. But what is strength without a double share
    Of Wisdom?
       John Milton, Samson Agonistes, 53-54

  27. Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end. . . .
       John Milton, Samson Agonistes, 1008


  28. Fancy, who hath no present home,
    But builds her bower in scenes to come,
    Walking for ever in a light
    That flows from regions out of sight.
       Thomas Moore, Evenings in Greece, Second Evening

  29. With all my soul, then let us part,
    Since both are anxious to be free;
    And I will send you home your heart,
    If you will send back mine to me!
       Thomas Moore, Juvenile poems, To   *    *   *

  30. Alas! too well, too well they know
    The pain, the penitence, the woe
    That passion brings down on the best,
    The wisest and the loveliest.
       Thomas Moore, Loves of the Angels, Second Angels Story


  31.     There's a joy,
    To the fond votaries of fame unknown,
    To hear the still, small voice of conscience speak
    In whisp'ring plaudit to the silent soul.
       Hannah More, David and Goliath, Pt. I


H o m e  |  e-mail   |  Back  
©1994 - 2007 Stephen L. Spanoudis, All Rights Reserved Worldwide