Philip James Bailey (22 April 1816 – 6 September 1902) was an English Spasmodic poet, best known as the author of Festus.
Hell is the wrath of God--His hate of sin.
Night brings out stars as sorrow shows us truths.
Necessity, like electricity, is in ourselves and all things, and no more without us than within us.
A poet not in love is out at sea; He must have a lay-figure.
Youth might be wise; we suffer less from pains than pleasures.
It is much less what we do than what we think, which fits us for the future.
Evil is limited. One cannot form A scheme for universal evil.
The death-change comes. Death is another life. We bow our heads At going out, we think, and enter straight Another golden chamber of the king's Larger than this we leave, and lovelier. And then in shadowy glimpses, disconnect, The story, flower-like, closes thus its leaves. The will of God is all in all. He makes, Destroys, remakes, for His own pleasure, all.
True faith nor biddeth nor abideth form, The bended knee, the eye uplift; is all Which men need render; all which God can bear. What to the faith are forms? A passing speck, A crow upon the sky.
Music tells no truths.
Oh, could we lift the future's sable shroud.
Blessings star forth forever; but a curse is like a cloud, it passes.
Application is the price to be paid for mental acquisition. To have the harvest, we must sow the seed.
Lowliness is the base of every virtue, And he who goes the lowest builds the safest.
England! my country, great and free! Heart of the world, I leap to thee!
Stars which stand as thick as dewdrops on the field of heaven.
Let each man think himself an act of God, His mind a thought, his life a breath of God; And let each try, by great thoughts and good deeds, To show the most of Heaven he hath in him.
He hath no power that hath not power to use.
Man is a military animal, glories in gunpowder, and loves parade.
Fulfill thy fate! Be-do-bear-and thank God.