Samuel Coleridge
On the 21st of October 1772, Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born in Ottery St Mary, beginning a life that would extend across poetry, philosophy, criticism, and theology. His education took him through The King's School, Christ's Hospital, and Jesus College, laying the groundwork for a career of considerable range conducted throughout in the English language.
Coleridge worked as a poet, writer, philosopher, critic, literary critic, and theologian — a set of vocations that together shaped a body of work resistant to simple summary. Among his writings in verse, he produced The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Christabel, and Kubla Khan, three poems that stand as distinct achievements within his output. He also contributed to Lyrical Ballads, adding that volume to a list of works that demonstrates the breadth of what he attempted across his writing life. His activities as a philosopher and literary critic extended his engagement with English letters well beyond verse, while his work as a theologian added a further dimension to what he produced.
As a citizen of the Kingdom of Great Britain and later of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, Coleridge pursued these intertwined roles over the course of decades. His standing as a writer and thinker was formally acknowledged when he was named a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature, a recognition that situated him among those the institution considered worthy of that distinction. The award marked a public moment of acknowledgment during a career that had moved steadily across multiple disciplines.
Coleridge died in London on the 25th of July 1834. The Fellowship of the Royal Society of Literature remained among the concrete markers of his reception as a writer — an acknowledgment, before his death, that his work in English as poet, philosopher, critic, and theologian had earned him a recognized place in the literary culture of his time.
Quotes by Samuel Coleridge

And all should cry, Beware! Beware! / His flashing eyes, his floating hair! / Weave a circle round him thrice, / And close your eyes with holy dread, / For he on honey-dew hath fed, / And drunk the milk of Paradise.

All thoughts, all passions, all delights, whatever stirs this mortal frame, all are but ministers of love, and feed his sacred flame.

The ice was here, the ice was there, / The ice was all around; / It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, / Like noises in a swound!


In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column; / In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, / The furrow followed free; / We were the first that ever burst / Into that silent sea.



