Buried Quotes by Gerard Manley Hopkins

1 Buried quote by Gerard Manley Hopkins

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I thought how sadly beauty of inscape was unknown and buried away from simple people and yet how near at hand it was if they had eyes to see it and it could be called out everywhere again.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

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No wonder of it: sheer plod makes plough down sillion Shine, and blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, Fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

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O the mind, mind has mountains; cliffs of fall Frightful, sheer, no-man-fathomed. Hold them cheap May who ne'er hung there. Nor does long our…

Gerard Manley Hopkins

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Do you know, a horrible thing has happened to me. I have begun to doubt Tennyson.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

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Time has three dimensions and one positive pitch or direction. It is therefore not so much like any river or any sea as like…

Gerard Manley Hopkins

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And though we do have him before our eyes, masked in the Sacred Host, at mass and Benediction and within our lips receive him…

Gerard Manley Hopkins

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The effect of studying masterpieces is to make me admire and do otherwise.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

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I always knew in my heart Walt Whitman's mind to be more like my own than any other man's living.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

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What is all this juice and all this joy? A strain of the earth's sweet being in the beginning In Eden garden.-Have, get, before it cloy, Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning, Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy, Most, O maid's child, thy choice and worthy the winning.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

It is not only prayer that gives God glory but work. Smitting on an anvil, sawing a beam, whitewashing a wall, driving horses, sweeping, scouring, everything gives God some glory if being in his grace you do it as your duty. To go to communion worthily gives God great glory, but a man with a dungfork in his hand, a…

Gerard Manley Hopkins

“I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the morning: The moon, dwindled and thinned to the fringe of a finger-nail held to the candle, Or paring of paradisaical fruit, lovely in waning but lustreless, Stepped from the stool, drew back from the barrow, of dark Maenefa the mountain; A cusp still…

Gerard Manley Hopkins