61 Quotes by William Collins

There are many that I miss, having sent my last one out a car window sparking along the road one night, years ago.

When Music, heavenly maid, was young,While yet in early Greece she sung.

Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole.

T was sad by fits, by starts 't was wild.

With eyes up-rais'd, as one inspir'd, Pale Melancholy sate retir'd, And from her wild sequester'd seat, In notes by distance made more sweet, Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul.

Between the dark lakes where the dark rivers flowthere is no ferry waiting on the shore of rockand no man holding a long oar,ready to take your last coin.This is the real earth and the real water it contains.

Between the dark lakes where the dark rivers flow there is no ferry waiting on the shore of rock and no man holding a long oar, ready to take your last coin. This is the real earth and the real water it contains.

And with Yeats you lean against a broken pear tree, the day hooded by low clouds.

The sunlight flashes off your windshield,and when I look up into the small, posted mirror,I watch you diminish--my echo, my twin--and vanish around a curve in this whipof a road we can't help traveling together.