Quotes
Quotes about Light
Virtue could see to do what virtue would
By her own radiant light, though sun and moon
Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude,
Where with her best nurse Contemplation
She plumes her feathers and lets grow her wings,
That in the various bustle of resort
Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes impair'd.
He that has light within his own clear breast
May sit i' th' centre and enjoy bright day;
But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts
Benighted walks under the midday sun.
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
(That last infirmity of noble mind)
To scorn delights, and live laborious days;
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
Comes the blind Fury with th' abhorred shears
And slits the thin-spun life.
Sport, that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
Come and trip it as ye go,
On the light fantastic toe.
Where glowing embers through the room
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom.
And storied windows richly dight,
Casting a dim religious light.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attic taste?
Beholding the bright countenance of truth in the quiet and still air of delightful studies.
By this time, like one who had set out on his way by night, and travelled through a region of smooth or idle dreams, our history now arrives on the confines, where daylight and truth meet us with a clear dawn, representing to our view, though at a far distance, true colours and shapes.
Her feet beneath her petticoat
Like little mice stole in and out,
As if they feared the light;
But oh, she dances such a way!
No sun upon an Easter-day
Is half so fine a sight.
Her face is like the milky way i' the sky,--
A meeting of gentle lights without a name.
I see them walking in an air of glory
Whose light doth trample on my days,--
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmering and decays.
It is not necessary to light a candle to the sun.
It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where 't is kept is lighter than vanity.
Happy who in his verse can gently steer
From grave to light, from pleasant to severe.
Burn daylight.
Angels listen when she speaks:
She's my delight, all mankind's wonder;
But my jealous heart would break
Should we live one day asunder.
How fading are the joys we dote upon!
Like apparitions seen and gone.
But those which soonest take their flight
Are the most exquisite and strong,--
Like angels' visits, short and bright;
Mortality's too weak to bear them long.
Our hopes, like towering falcons, aim
At objects in an airy height;
The little pleasure of the game
Is from afar to view the flight.
The two noblest things, which are sweetness and light.
If there's delight in love, 't is when I see
That heart which others bleed for, bleed for me.
We shall find no fiend in hell can match the fury of a disappointed woman,--scorned, slighted, dismissed without a parting pang.
Thy steady temper, Portius,
Can look on guilt, rebellion, fraud, and Cæsar,
In the calm lights of mild philosophy.
Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
For God hath made them so;
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
For 't is their nature too.
There is a land of pure delight,
Where saints immortal reign;
Infinite day excludes the night,
And pleasures banish pain.
How blessings brighten as they take their flight!
