Eleanor Farjeon Quotes

'In love there are no penalties and no payments, and what is given is indistinguishable from what is received.' And he bent his head and kissed her long and deeply, and in that kiss neither knew themselves, or even each other, but something beyond all consciousness that was both of them.

It’s no use crying over spilt evils. It’s better to mop them up laughing.

From the blood of Medusa Pegasus sprang. His hoof of heaven Like melody rang.

Women are so strangely constructed that they have in them darkness as well as light, though it be but a little curtain hung across the sun. And love is the hand that takes the curtain down, a stronger hand than fear, which hung it up. For all the ill that is in us comes from fear, and all the good from love.

O evanescent temples built of man To deities he honoured and dethroned! Earth shoots a trail of her eternal vine To crown the head that men have ceased to honour. Beneath the coronal of leaf and lichen The mocking smile upon the lips derides Pan's lost dominion; but the pointed ears Are keen and prick'd with old remember'd sounds. All my breast aches with longing for the past! Thou God of stone, I have a craving in me For knowledge of thee as thou wert in old Enchanted twilights in Arcadia.

Dropt tears have hastened your decay And brought you one step nigher death; And you have heard, unthrilled, unmoved, The music of Love's golden breath And seen the light in eyes that loved. You think you hold the core and kernel Of all the world beneath your crust, Old dial? But when you lie in dust, This vine will bloom, strong, green, and proved. Love is eternal.

King's Cross! What shall we do? His Purple Robe Is rent in two!

Upon your shattered ruins where This vine will flourish still, as rare, As fresh, as fragrant as of old. Love will not crumble.

No love-story has ever been told twice. I never heard any tale of lovers that did not seem to me as new as the world on its first morning.

And some young country miss
Giving her lad a kiss,
Quite certain that the olden times were not so good as this.

He could not be captured, He could not be bought, His running was rhythm, His standing was thought; With one eye on sorrow And one eye on mirth, He galloped in heaven And gambolled on earth.<p> And only the poet With wings to his brain Can mount him and ride him Without any rein, The stallion of heaven, The steed of the skies, The horse of the singer Who sings as he flies.

Water, Loo! water, Loo! fetch me some water! There isn't a drop for a mile and a quarter! The ground is so hard and the ground is so dry I'm frightened my little red rose-bush will die.

Once she kissed me with a jest, Once with a tear — O where's the heart was in my breast, And the ring was in my ear?

It always gives me a shiver when I see a cat seeing what I can't see.

In Arcady there lies a crystal spring Ring'd all about with green melodious reeds Swaying seal'd music up and down the wind. Here on its time-defaced pedestal The image of a half-forgotten God Crumbles to its complete oblivion.