Robert Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Earl Of Lytton Quotes

There is a pleasure that is born of pain.

Art is Nature made by Man / To Man the interpreter of God.

Alas! must it ever be so? Do we stand in our own light, wherever we go, And fight our own shadows forever?

I loved you ere I knew you; know you now,
And having known you, love you better still.

Unseen hands delay The coming of what oft seems close in ken, And, contrary, the moment, when we say "'Twill never come!" comes on us even then.

Great sorrow makes sacred the sufferer.

Who knows nothing base, Fears nothing known.

Only by knowledge of that which is not thyself, shall thyself be learned.

In life there are meetings which seem Like a fate.

Heaven's slow but sure redress of human ills.

Sorrows humanize our race; tears are the showers that fertilize the world.

We are our own fates.- Our deeds are our own doomsmen.- Man's life was made not for creeds but actions.

There's a moment when all would go smooth and even,
If only the dead could find out when
To come back, and be forgiven.

They only fall, that strive to move, Or lose, that care to keep.

No true love there can be without Its dread penalty
jealousy.

Good -humor is goodness and wisdom combined.

When time is flown, how it fled
It is better neither to ask nor tell,
Leave the dead moments to bury their dead.

No life can be pure in its purpose, and strong in its strife, and all life not be purer and stronger thereby.

Words, however, are things.

The world's a nettle; disturb it, it stings: Grasp it firmly, it stings not.

That's best Which God sends. 'Twas His will: it is mine.

No one will learn anything at all, unless one first will learn humility.

Life hath set
No landmarks before us.

The world is filled with folly and sin, And Love must cling, where it can, I say: For Beauty is easy enough to win; But one isn't loved every day

Life is good, but not life in itself.

No star ever rose or set without influence somewhere.

Rest is sweet after strife.

Do not think that years leave us and find us the same!

Those true eyes Too pure and too honest in aught to disguise The sweet soul shining through them.

We may live without friends; we may live without books
But civilized men cannot live without cooks.

We gain justice, judgment, with years, or else years are in vain.

We are but as the instrument of heaven.

Whenever I hear French spoken as I approve, I find myself quietly falling in love.

That man is great, and he alone, Who serves a greatness not his own, For neither praise nor self: Content to know and be unknown: Whole in himself.

There is purpose in pain; otherwise it were devilish.

Thought alone is eternal