Gears Quotes by Gerard Manley Hopkins

1 Gears quote by Gerard Manley Hopkins

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Glory be to God for dappled things- For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings; Landscape plotted and pieced-fold, fallow, and plough; And áll trádes, their gear…

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