Quotes from Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        Man for the field and woman for the hearth:Man for the sword and for the needle she:Man with the head and woman with the heart:Man to command and woman to obey;All else confusion.
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                
                        Live pure, speak true, right wrong, follow the King—Else, wherefore born?
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                
                        Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null,Dead perfection, no more.
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                
                        He makes no friend who never made a foe.
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                
                        And slowly answer'd Arthur from the barge:The old order changeth, yielding place to new;And God fulfills himself in many ways,Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                
                        I come from haunts of coot and hern,I make a sudden sallyAnd sparkle out among the fern,To bicker down a valley.
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                
                        Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                
                        Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs,And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns.
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                
                        One God, one law, one element,And one far-off divine event,To which the whole creation moves.
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                
                        Sweet is every sound,Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet;Myriads of rivulets hurrying through the lawn,The moan of doves in immemorial elms,And murmuring of innumerable bees.
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                
                        Ask me no more: thy fate and mine are seal'd:I strove against the stream and all in vain:Let the great river take me to the main:No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield;Ask me no more.
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                
                        Cast all your cares on God; that anchor holds.
                    — Alfred Lord Tennyson
                        
                 
                        