Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Samuel Taylor Coleridgewas an English poet, literary critic and philosopher who, with his friend William Wordsworth, was a founder of the Romantic Movement in England and a member of the Lake Poets. He wrote the poems The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and Kubla Khan, as well as the major prose work Biographia Literaria. His critical work, especially on Shakespeare, was highly influential, and he helped introduce German idealist philosophy to English-speaking culture. Coleridge coined many familiar words and phrases,...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth21 October 1772
Nothing can permanently please, which doesn't contain in itself the reason why it is so, and not otherwise.
I may not hope from outward forms to win / The passion and the life, whose fountains are within.
The form is mechanic when on any given material we impress a predetermined form. The organic form, on the other hand, is innate, it shapes as it develops itself from within.
When the whole and the parts are seen at once, as mutually producing and explaining each other, as unity in multeity, there results shapeliness.
That passage is what I call the sublime dashed to pieces by cutting too close with the fiery four-in-hand round the corner of nonsense.
A savage place! As holy and enchanted/As e'er beneath the waning moon was haunted/By woman wailing for her Demon Lover!
May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling, Silent as though they watched the sleeping earth!
I must reject fluids and ethers of all kinds, magnetical, electrical, and universal, to whatever quintessential thinness they may be treble distilled, and as it were super-substantiated.
For she belike hath drunken deep Of all the blessedness of sleep.
A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
This is the course of every evil deed, that, propagating still it brings forth evil.
If you are not a thinking man, to what purpose are you a man at all?.
Real pain can alone cure us of imaginary ills. We feel a thousand miseries till we are lucky enough to feel misery.
The history of man for the nine months preceding his birth would, probably, be far more interesting and contain events of greater moment than all the three score and ten years that follow it.