“Forth from his dark and lonely hiding place
(Portentous-sight!) the owlet Atheism,
Sailing an obscene wings athwart the noon,
Drops his blue-fringèd lids, and holds them close,
And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven,
Cries out, "Where is it?"”

— Samuel Taylor Coleridge

" Fears in Solitude http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/stc/Coleridge/poems/Fears_in_Solitude.html", l. 81 (1798)

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Samuel Taylor Coleridge 220

English poet, literary critic and philosopher 1772–1834

Dean Koontz book From the Corner of His Eye

Source: From the Corner of His Eye

“… For a lifetime was but a moment in that place, and each man dreams his own heaven.

And in the darkness David closed his eyes, as all that was lost was found again.”

John Connolly The Book of Lost Things

Source: The Book of Lost Things

“The warm sun kissed the earth
To consecrate thy birth,
And from his close embrace
Thy radiant face
Sprang into sight,
A blossoming delight.”

Sarah Orne Jewett (1849–1909) American novelist, short story writer and poet

"The Soul of the Sunflower" in Scribner's Magazine, Vol. XXII (October 1881), p. 942

“The armour of falsehood is subtly wrought out of darkness, and hides a man not only from others, but from his own soul.”

E.M. Forster book A Room with a View

Source: A Room with a View

“These arms of mine,
They are lonely.
Lonely and feeling blue.
These arms of mine,
They are yearning.
Yearning from wanting you.
And if you would let them hold you,
Oh how grateful I will be.”

Otis Redding (1941–1967) American singer, songwriter and record producer

These Arms of Mine.
Song lyrics, Pain in My Heart (1964)

“Feeling that the silver chord of life is loosing, and that his spirit is ready to quit her old companion the body, he extends himself on his bed — closes his eyes for the last time, with his own hands — folds his arms decently on his breast, then breathing out "Father of mercies! take me to thyself," — he fell asleep. Swift on angels' wings the brightening saint ascended; while voices more than human were heard (in Fancy's ear) warbling through the happy regions, and hymning the great procession towards the gates of heaven. His glorious coming was seen far off, and myriads of mighty angels hastened forth, with golden harps, to welcome the honored stranger.”

Mason Weems (1759–1825) fictionalizing biographer of George Washington

Description of Washington's death in Life of Washington (1800); this fanciful account bears no relation to the report of Washington's last words by his personal secretary Tobias Lear, who wrote in his journal (14 December 1799) http://gwpapers.virginia.edu/project/exhibit/mourning/lear.html: About ten o'clk he made several attempts to speak to me before he could effect it, at length he said, — "I am just going. Have me decently buried; and do not let my body be put into the Vault in less than three days after I am dead." I bowed assent, for I could not speak. He then looked at me again and said, "Do you understand me? I replied "Yes." "Tis well" said he.

“Each somersault whipped out a perfect arc of shiny drops from his thick black hair. Then, as if it were his decision and not gravity’s, he opened the blade of his body toward the water and pierced its placid blue surface.”

Andrea Lewis (writer) Microsoft employee

“The Empire Pool” Conclave: A Journal of Character, Issue 5, (Spring, 2013)
2010-

“Everybody's just waiting to hear from the one
Who can give them the answers
And lead them back to that place in the warmth of the sun
Where sweet childhood still dances
Who'll come along
And hold out that strong
But gentle fathers hand?”

Jackson Browne (1948) American singer-songwriter

Source: For Everyman, from For Everyman (1973)

“TRIFLE
On early morn children were playing at the river’s shore
close to the noon soldiers came out of the blue
by the dim river red played theirs sins”

Marcin Malek (1975) Polish writer

Call me an idiot (2012), pages 41, the whole piece

“The Poet is a kinsman in the clouds
Who scoffs at archers, loves a stormy day;
But on the ground, among the hooting crowds,
He cannot walk, his wings are in the way.”

Charles Baudelaire book Les Fleurs du mal

Le Poète est semblable au prince des nuées
Qui hante la tempête et se rit de l’archer ;
Exilé sur le sol au milieu des huées,
Ses ailes de géant l’empêchent de marcher.
"L’Albatros" [The Albatross] (translated by James McGowan, Oxford University Press, 1993) http://fr.wikisource.org/wiki/L%E2%80%99Albatros
Les fleurs du mal (Flowers of Evil) (1857)
Source: Les Fleurs Du Mal

“Forth from his dark and lonely hiding place
(Portentous-sight!) the owlet Atheism,
Sailing an obscene wings athwart the noon,
Drops his blue-fringèd lids, and holds them close,
And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven,
Cries out, "Where is it?"”

Help us to complete the source, original and additional information

Samuel Taylor Coleridge 220

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“Forth from his dark and lonely hiding place(Portentous-sight!) the owlet Atheism,Sailing an obscene wings athwart the noon,Drops his blue-fringèd lids, and holds them close,And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven,Cries out, "Where is it?"”

Help us to complete the source, original and additional information

Samuel Taylor Coleridge 220

Related quotes

Related topics

“Forth from his dark and lonely hiding place
(Portentous-sight!) the owlet Atheism,
Sailing an obscene wings athwart the noon,
Drops his blue-fringèd lids, and holds them close,
And hooting at the glorious sun in Heaven,
Cries out, "Where is it?"”