Matthew Arnold

One has often wondered whether upon the whole earth there is anything so unintelligent, so unapt to perceive how the world is really going, as an ordinary young Englishman of our upper class.

Poetry is at bottom a criticism of life.

Genius is mainly an affair of energy, and poetry is mainly an affair of genius; therefore a nation whose spirit is characterized by energy may well be imminent in poetry - and we have Shakespeare.

And see all sights from pole to pole, And glance, and nod, and hustle by; And never once possess our soul Before we die.

Strew on her roses, roses, And never a spray of yew! In quiet she reposes; Ah, would that I did too!

There is no better motto which it [culture] can have than these words of Bishop Wilson, "To make reason and the will of God prevail."

He bears the seed of ruin in himself.

Resolve to be thyself: and know that he Who finds himself loses his misery.

Thou waitest for the spark from heaven! and we, Light half-believers in our casual deeds . . . Who hesitate and falter life away, And lose tomorrow the ground won today- Ah, do not we, Wanderer, await it too?

With close-lipp'd Patience for our only friend, Sad Patience, too near neighbour to Despair.