37 Quotes by Emma Lazarus

Give me your tired, your poor,/ Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,/ The wretched refuse of your teeming shore./ Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,/ I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand/ A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame/ Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name/ Mother of exiles.

Still on Israel's head forlorn,/ Every nation heaps its scorn.

His cup is gall, his meat is tears,/ His passion lasts a thousand years.

When angels visit earth, the messengers Of God's decree, they come as lightning, wind: Before the throne, they all are living fire.

Life's sharpest rapture is surcease of pain.

My own curiosity and interest are insatiable.

Thick February mists cling heavily To the dead earth and to each leafless tree, And closer down upon the hilltops draw, Dull forecasts there of bright, sure-coming spring; Yet the heart gathers hope and strange delight From this dear, unlovely, wished-for sight Of leaden-misted twilights lengthening.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of exiles.