 |
Self-love
|

|
He who begins by loving Christianity better than truth will proceed by loving his own sect better than Christianity and end in loving himself better than all.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
|
 |
Sex
|

|
How deep a wound to morals and social purity has that accursed article of the celibacy of the clergy been! Even the best and most enlightened men in Romanist countries attach a notion of impurity to the marriage of a clergyman. And can such a feeling be without its effect on the estimation of the wedded life in general? Impossible! and the morals of both sexes in Spain, Italy, France, and. prove it abundantly.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
|
 |
Singing
|

|
Swans sing before they die -- t'were no bad thing did certain persons die before they sing.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
|
 |
Sleep
|

|
Oh Sleep! it is a gentle thing, beloved from pole to pole, to Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, that slid into my soul.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
|
 |
Snow
|

|
Advice is like snow -- the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper it sinks into the mind.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge, attributed - no source found
|
 |
Sympathy
|

|
All sympathy not consistent with acknowledged virtue is but disguised selfishness.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
|
 |
Things, Little Things
|

|
The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions -- the little soon forgotten charities of a kiss or smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment, and the countless infinitesimal of pleasurable and genial feeling.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
|
 |
Tolerance
|

|
I have seen great intolerance shown in support of tolerance.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
|
 |
War
|

|
Five miles meandering with mazy motion, Through dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank the tumult to a lifeless ocean: And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war!
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Kubla Kahn
|
 |
Water
|

|
Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink. Water, water everywhere, Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot: O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, 1798
|
 |
Words
|

|
Prose, words in their best order. Poetry, the best words in the best order.
-Samuel Taylor Coleridge
|