The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations
.pdfI do not mind what language an opera is sung in so long as it is a language I don’t understand.
In ‘Observer’ 28 August 1955
1.74 Thomas Gold Appleton 1812-84
A Boston man is the east wind made flesh.
Attributed
Good Americans, when they die, go to Paris.
In Oliver Wendell Holmes ‘The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table’ (1858) ch. 6
1.75 The Arabian Nights Entertainments, or the Thousand and one Nights
Who will change old lamps for new ones?...new lamps for old ones?
‘The History of Aladdin’
Open Sesame!
‘The History of Ali Baba’
1.76 William Arabin 1773-1841
If ever there was a case of clearer evidence than this of persons acting in concert together, this case is that case.
In Sir R. Megarry ‘Arabinesque at Law’ (1969)
They will steal the very teeth out of your mouth as you walk through the streets. I know it from experience.
Referring to the citizens of Uxbridge, in Sir R. Megarry ‘Arabinesque at Law’ (1969)
Prisoner, God has given you good abilities, instead of which you go about the country stealing ducks.
‘Notes and Queries’ vol. 170, p. 310
1.77 Louis Aragon 1897-1982
O mois des floraisons mois des mètamorphoses
Mai qui fut sans nuage et Juin poignardè mètamorphoses Je n’oublierai jamais les lilas ni les roses mètamorphoses Ni ceux que le printemps dans ses plis a gardè.
O month of flowerings, month of metamorphoses, mètamorphoses May without cloud and June that was stabbed, mètamorphoses
I shall never forget the lilac and the roses mètamorphoses
Nor those whom spring has kept in its folds.
‘Les lilas et les roses’ (1940)
1.78 John Arbuthnot 1667-1735
He warns the heads of parties against believing their own lies.
‘The Art of Political Lying’ (1712) p. 19
Law is a bottomless pit.
‘The History of John Bull’ (1712) ch. 24
Hame’s hame, be it never so hamely.
‘Law is a Bottomless Pit’ (1712)
1.79 Archilochus
The fox knows many things—the hedgehog one big one.
E.Diehl (ed.) ‘Anthologia Lyrica Graeca’ (3rd ed., 1949-52) vol. 1, p. 241, no. 103.
1.80Archimedes 287-212 B.C.
Eureka! [I’ve got it!]
In Vitruvius Pollio ‘De Architectura’ bk. 9, preface, sect. 10
Give me but one firm spot on which to stand, and I will move the earth.
With reference to a lever, in Pappus ‘Synagoge’ bk. 8, sect. 19, proposition 10
1.81 Hannah Arendt 1906-75
It was as though in those last minutes he [Eichmann] was summing up the lessons that this long course in human wickedness had taught us—the lesson of the fearsome, word-and-thought- defying banality of evil.
‘Eichmann in Jerusalem: a Report on the Banality of Evil’ (1963) ch. 15
Only crime and the criminal, it is true, confront us with the perplexity of radical evil; but only the hypocrite is really rotten to the core.
‘On Revolution’ (1963) ch. 2
Under conditions of tyranny it is far easier to act than to think.
In W. H. Auden ‘A Certain World’ (1970) p. 369
The most radical revolutionary will become a conservative on the day after the revolution.
In ‘New Yorker’ 12 September 1970, p. 88
1.82 Marquis d’Argenson (Renè Louis de Voyer d’Argenson) 1694-1757
Laisser-faire.
No interference.
‘Mèmoires’ (1736) vol. 5, p. 364.
1.83 Comte d’Argenson (Marc Pierre de Voyed d’Argenson) 1696-1764
Abbè Guyot Desfontaines: Il faut que je vive. D’Argenson: Je n’en vois pas la nècessitè.
Desfontaines: I must live.
d’Argenson: I do not see the necessity.
In Voltaire ‘Alzire’ (1736) ‘Discours Prèliminaire’
1.84 Ludovico Ariosto 1474-1533
Natura il fece, e poi roppe la stampa.
Nature made him, and then broke the mould.
‘Orlando Furioso’ (1532) canto 10, st. 84
1.85 Aristophanes c.444-c.380 B.C.
How about ‘Cloudcuckooland’?
Naming the capital city of the Birds in ‘The Birds’ (414 B.C.) l. 819
To make the worse appear the better reason.
‘The Clouds’ (423 B.C.) l. 114 and elsewhere
But he was contented there, is contented here.
Referring to Sophocles in ‘The Frogs’ (405 B.C.) l. 82 (there on earth; here in Hades)
Brekekekex koax koax.
Cry of the Frogs in ‘The Frogs’ (405 B.C.) l. 209 and elsewhere
1.86 Aristotle 384-322 B.C.
So the good has been well explained as that at which all things aim.
‘Nicomachean Ethics’ bk. 1, opening sentence
We make war that we may live in peace.
‘Nicomachean Ethics’ bk. 10, ch. 7.
Man is by nature a political animal.
‘Politics’ bk. 1, sect. 2, 1253a
Nature does nothing uselessly.
‘Politics’ bk. 1, sect. 2
He who is unable to live in society, or who has no need because he is sufficient for himself, must be either a beast or a god.
‘Politics’ bk. 1, sect. 2
Where some people are very wealthy and others have nothing, the result will be either extreme democracy or absolute oligarchy, or despotism will come from either of those excesses.
‘Politics’ bk. 1, sect. 4, 1296a
Tragedy is thus a representation of an action that is worth serious attention, complete in itself and of some amplitude...by means of pity and fear bringing about the purgation of such emotions.
‘Poetics’ ch. 6, 1449b
For this reason poetry is something more philosophical and more worthy of serious attention than history.
‘Poetics’ ch. 9, 1451b
Probable impossibilities are to be preferred to improbable possibilites.
‘Poetics’ ch. 24, 1460a
Amicus Plato, sed magis amica veritas.
Plato is dear to me, but dearer still is truth.
Greek original ascribed to Aristotle
What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies.
In Diogenes Laertius ‘Lives of Eminent Philosophers’ bk. 5, sect. 20
1.87 Lewis Addison Armistead 1817-63
Give them the cold steel, boys!
Attributed during the American Civil War, 1863
1.88 Harry Armstrong 1879-1951
There’s an old mill by the stream, Nellie Dean, Where we used to sit and dream, Nellie Dean. And the waters as they flow
Seem to murmur sweet and low,
‘You’re my heart’s desire; I love you, Nellie Dean.’
‘Nellie Dean’ (1905 song)
1.89 Dr John Armstrong 1709-79
Much had he read,
Much more had seen; he studied from the life, And in th’ original perused mankind.
‘The Art of Preserving Health’ (1744) bk. 4, l. 231
’Tis not for mortals always to be blest.
‘The Art of Preserving Health’ (1744) bk. 4, l. 260
Of right and wrong he taught
Truths as refined as ever Athens heard;
And (strange to tell!) he practised what he preached.
‘The Art of Preserving Health’ (1744) bk. 4, l. 303
’Tis not too late to-morrow to be brave.
‘The Art of Preserving Health’ (1744) bk. 4, l. 460
1.90 Louis Satchmo Armstrong 1901-71
All music is folk music, I ain’t never heard no horse sing a song.
In ‘New York Times’ 7 July 1971, p. 41
If you still have to ask...shame on you.
When asked what jazz is, in Max Jones et al. ‘Salute to Satchmo’ (1970) p. 25 (sometimes quoted as ‘Man, if you gotta ask you’ll never know’).
1.91 Neil Armstrong 1930—
Houston, Tranquillity Base here. The Eagle has landed. That’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.
In ‘New York Times’ 31 July 1969, p. 20
1.92 Lord Armstrong 1927—
It contains a misleading impression, not a lie. It was being economical with the truth.
Referring to a letter during the ‘Spycatcher’ trial, Supreme Court, New South Wales, 18 November 1986, in ‘Daily Telegraph’ 19 November 1986. Edmund Burke ‘Two letters on Proposals for Peace’ (1796) pt. 1, p. 137, ‘Falsehood and delusion are allowed in no case whatsoever: But, as in the exercise of all the virtues, there is an economy of truth.’
1.93 Sir Edwin Arnold 1832-1904
Nor ever once ashamed So we be named
Press-men; Slaves of the Lamp; Servants of Light.
‘The Tenth Muse’ (1895) st. 18
1.94 George Arnold 1834-65
The living need charity more than the dead.
‘The Jolly Old Pedagogue’
1.95 Matthew Arnold 1822-88
And we forget because we must And not because we will.
‘Absence’
Only—but this is rare—
When a belovèd hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable hours,
Our eyes can in another’s eyes read clear, When our world-deafened ear
Is by the tones of a loved voice caressed— A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast, And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again.
The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain,
And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know.
‘The Buried Life’ (1852) l. 77
The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.
‘Dover Beach’ (1867) l. 21
Be neither saint nor sophist-led, but be a man.
‘Empedocles on Etna’ (1852) act 1, sc. 2, l. 136
Is it so small a thing
To have enjoyed the sun,
To have lived light in the spring,
To have loved, to have thought, to have done.
‘Empedocles on Etna’ (1852) act 1, sc. 2, l. 397
Because thou must not dream, thou needst not then despair!
‘Empedocles on Etna’ (1852) act 1, sc. 2, l. 426
Come to me in my dreams, and then By day I shall be well again!
For then the night will more than pay The hopeless longing of the day.
‘Faded Leaves’ (1855) no. 5 (first published, 1852, as ‘Longing’)
Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below!
‘The Forsaken Merman’ (1849) l. 1
Now the great winds shorewards blow; Now the salt tides seawards flow; Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
‘The Forsaken Merman’ (1849) l. 4
Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, Where the winds are all asleep;
Where the spent lights quiver and gleam; Where the salt weed sways in the stream;
‘The Forsaken Merman’ (1849) l. 35
Where great whales come sailing by, Sail and sail, with unshut eye,
Round the world for ever and aye.
‘The Forsaken Merman’ (1849) l. 43
This truth—to prove, and make thine own: ‘Thou hast been, shalt be, art, alone.’
‘Isolation. To Marguerite’ (1857) l. 29
Creep into thy narrow bed, Creep, and let no more be said! Vain thy onset! all stands fast. Thou thyself must break at last.
Let the long contention cease!
Geese are swans, and swans are geese. Let them have it how they will!
Thou art tired; best be still.
‘The Last Word’ (1867)
Calm soul of all things! make it mine To feel, amid the city’s jar,
That there abides a peace of thine, Man did not make, and cannot mar.
‘Lines written in Kensington Gardens’ (1852)
He spoke, and loosed our heart in tears. He laid us as we lay at birth
On the cool flowery lap of earth.
Lines on Wordsworth in ‘Memorial Verses, April 1850’ l. 47
Ere the parting hour go by, Quick, thy tablets, Memory!
‘A Memory Picture’ (1849)
With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone; We bear the burden and the heat
Of the long day, and wish ’twere done. Not till the hours of light return,
All we have built do we discern.
‘Morality’ (1852).
Say, has some wet bird-haunted English lawn Lent it the music of its trees at dawn?
‘Parting’ (1852) l. 19
Hark! ah, the Nightingale! The tawny-throated!
Hark! from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark—what pain!
‘Philomela’ (1853) l. 1
Eternal Passion! Eternal Pain!
‘Philomela’ l. 31
Cruel, but composed and bland, Dumb, inscrutable and grand, So Tiberius might have sat, Had Tiberius been a cat.
‘Poor Matthias’ (1885) l. 40
Her cabined ample Spirit,
It fluttered and failed for breath. To-night it doth inherit
The vasty hall of death.
‘Requiescat’ (1853)
Not deep the Poet sees, but wide.
‘Resignation’ (1849) l. 214
Yet they, believe me, who await
No gifts from chance, have conquered fate.
‘Resignation’ (1849) l. 247
Not milder is the general lot Because our spirits have forgot, In action’s dizzying eddy whirled,
The something that infects the world.
‘Resignation’ (1849) l. 247
Coldly, sadly descends
The autumn evening. The Field Strewn with its dank yellow drifts Of withered leaves, and the elms, Fade into dimness apace, Silent;—hardly a shout
From a few boys late at their play!
‘Rugby Chapel, November 1857’
Go, for they call you, Shepherd, from the hill.
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 1
All the live murmur of a summer’s day.
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 20
Tired of knocking at Preferment’s door.
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 35
Crossing the stripling Thames at Bab-lock-hithe, Trailing in the cool stream thy fingers wet,
As the slow punt swings round.
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 74
Rapt, twirling in thy hand a withered spray, And waiting for the spark from heaven to fall.
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 119
The line of festal light in Christ-Church hall.
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 129
Thou waitest for the spark from heaven! and we, Light half-believers in our casual creeds...
Who hesitate and falter life away,
And lose to-morrow the ground won to-day— Ah, do not we, Wanderer, await it too?
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 171
O born in days when wits were fresh and clear, And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames; Before this strange disease of modern life, With its sick hurry, its divided aims,
Its heads o’ertaked, its palsied hearts, was rife— Fly hence, our contact fear!
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 201
Still nursing the unconquerable hope, Still clutching the inviolable shade.
‘The Scholar-Gipsy’ (1853) l. 211
Resolve to be thyself: and know, that he Who finds himself, loses his misery.
‘Self-Dependence’ (1852) l. 31
Others abide our question. Thou art free. We ask and ask: Thou smilest and art still, Out-topping knowledge.
‘Shakespeare’ (1849)
And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, Self-schooled, self-scanned, self-honoured, self-secure, Didst tread on Earth unguessed at.—Better so!
All pains the immortal spirit must endure,
All weakness which impairs, all griefs which bow, Find their sole speech in that victorious brow.
‘Shakespeare’ (1849)
Curled minion, dancer, coiner of sweet words!
‘Sohrab and Rustum’ (1853) l. 458
No horse’s cry was that, most like the roar Of some pained desert lion, who all day
Hath trailed the hunter’s javelin in his side, And comes at night to die upon the sand.
‘Sohrab and Rustum’ (1853) l. 501
Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.
‘Sohrab and Rustum’ (1853) l. 656
But the majestic River floated on,
Out of the mist and hum of that low land, Into the frosty starlight.
‘Sohrab and Rustum’ (1853) l. 875
Oxus, forgetting the bright speed he had In his high mountain cradle in Pamere, A foiled circuitous wanderer—till at last
The longed-for dash of waves is heard, and wide His luminous home of waters opens, bright
And tranquil, from whose floor the new-bathed stars Emerge, and shine upon the Aral Sea.
‘Sohrab and Rustum’ (1853) l. 886
For rigorous teachers seized my youth, And purged its faith, and trimmed its fire, Showed me the high, white star of Truth, There bade me gaze, and there aspire.
‘Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse’ (1855) l. 67
Wandering between two worlds, one dead, The other powerless to be born,
With nowhere yet to rest my head, Like these, on earth I wait forlorn.
‘Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse’ (1855) l. 85
What helps it now, that Byron bore,
With haughty scorn which mocked the smart, Through Europe to the Aetolian shore
The pageant of his bleeding heart? That thousands counted every groan, And Europe made his woe her own?
‘Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse’ (1855) l. 133
Ah! two desires toss about The poet’s feverish blood.
One drives him to the world without, And one to solitude.
‘Stanzas in Memory of the Author of “Obermann”, November 1849’ l. 93
Still bent to make some port he knows not where,