Browse through our collection of quotes tagged with Literary.
You shall go with me, newly-married bride,And gaze upon a merrier multitude.White-armed Nuala, Aengus of the Birds,Feachra of the hurtling form, and himWho is the ruler of the Western Host,Finvara, and their Land of Heart's Desire.Where beauty has no ebb, decay no flood,But joy is wisdom, time an endless song.
William Butler Yeats, Land of He
This is the way the world endsThis is the way the world endsThis is the way the world endsNot with a bang but a whimper.
TS (Thomas Stearns) Eliot, Hollo
Do not trust the horse, Trojans! Whatever it is, I fear the Greeks, even though they bring gifts.
Virgil, Aeneid, The
Oh you who are born of the blood of the gods, Trojan son of Anchises, easy is the descent to Hell; the door of dark Dis stands open day and night. But to retrace your steps and come out to the air above, that is work, that is labor!
Nothing but blackness aboveAnd nothing that moves but the cars...God, if you wish for our love,Fling us a handful of stars!
Louis Untermeyer, Caliban in the
'Humph!' grunted Mr. Romford, seeing his worst fears about to be realized. He had dreamt that he had timbled over a poodle in the drawing-room, and squirted a bottle of porter right into a lady's face. 'Who's goin' besides ourselves?' asked Romford, wishing to know the worst at once. 'Better be killed than frightened to death,' thought he.
Robert Smith Surtees, Mr. Facey
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleepAnd miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods
And nice to have seen you, Sue. Good luck, he called after her as she disappeared down the path, a pretty girl in a hurry, her smooth hair swinging, shining - just such a young woman as Nancy might have been. Then, starting home, he walked toward the trees, and under them, leaving behind him the big sky, the whisper of wind voices in the wind-bent wheat.
Truman Capote, The closing of In
In literature as in ethics, there is danger, as well as glory, in being subtle. Aristocracy isolates us.
Charles Baudelaire
Over the river and through the wood, To grandfather's house we go;The horse knows the wayTo carry the sleigh,Through the white and drifted snow.(first verse)
Lydia Maria Child, The NewEnglan
