Top 19 Quotes & Sayings by Abraham Coles

Explore popular quotes and sayings by an American physician Abraham Coles.
Last updated on December 23, 2024.
Abraham Coles

Abraham Coles was an American physician, translator, author and poet from New Jersey. He published Dies Irae (1859), Stabat Mater Dolorosa (1865), Stabat Mater Speciosa (1866), Old Gems in New Settings (1866), The Microcosm, The Evangel in Verse (1874) and The Light of the World (1884).

Who has not seen that feeling born of flame Crimson the cheek at mention of a name? The rapturous touch of some divine surpriseFlash deep suffusion of celestial dyes: When hands clasped hands, and lips to lips were pressed, And the heart's secret was at once confessed?
The power to bind and loose to Truth is given: The mouth that speaks it is the mouth of Heaven, The power, which in a sense belongs to none, Thus understood belongs to every one.
The grave, where sets the orb of being, sets
To rise, ascend, and culminate above
Eternity's horizon evermore. — © Abraham Coles
The grave, where sets the orb of being, sets To rise, ascend, and culminate above Eternity's horizon evermore.
Let us not doubt that God has a father's pity towards us, and that in the removal of that which is dearest to us He is still loving and kind. Death separates, but it also unites. It reunites whom it separates.
None of the prophets old, So lofty or so bold! No form of danger shakes his dauntless breast; In loneliness sublime He dares confront the time, And speak the truth, and give the world no rest No kingly threat can cowardize his breath, He with majestic step goes forth to meet his death.
I value science--none can prize it more, It gives ten thousand motives to adore: Be it religious, as it ought to be, The heart it humbles, and it bows the knee.
Much of our ignorance is of ourselves. Our eyes are full of dust. Prejudice blinds us.
Eternity! How know we but we stand On the precipitous and crumbling verge Of Time e'en now, Eternity below?
True love is humble, thereby is it known; Girded for service, seeking not its own; Vaunts not itself, but speaks in self-dispraise.
O most illustrious of the days of time! Day full of joy and benison to earth When Thou wast born, sweet Babe of Bethlehem! With dazzling pomp descending angels sung Good will and peace to men, to God due praise, Who on the errand of salvation sent Thee, Son Beloved! of plural Unity Essential part, made flesh that mad'st all worlds.
We hail the return of the day of thy birth, Fair Columbia! washed by the waves of two oceans Where men from the farthest dominions of earth Rear altars to Freedom, and pay their devotions; Where our fathers in fight, nobly strove for the Right, Struck down their fierce foemen or put them to flight; Through the long lapse of ages, that so there might be An asylum for all in the Land of the Free.
On eyes that watch as well as eyes that weep Descends the solemn mystery of sleep, Toiling and climbing to the very close, The weary Body, longing for repose, On the gained level of the day's ascent, Halts for the night and pitches there its tent.
Taking our stand on the immovable rock of Christ's character we risk nothing in saying that the wine of miracle answered to the wine of nature, and was not intoxicating. No counter proof can equal the force of that drawn from His attributes. It is an indecency and a calumny to impute to Christ conduct which requires apology.
Within a bony labrinthean cave, Reached by the pulse of the aerial wave, This sibyl, sweet, and Mystic Sense is found, Muse, that presides o'er all the Powers of Sound.
Words are freeborn, and not the vassals of the gruff tyrants of prose to do their bidding only. They have the same right to dance and sing as the dewdrops have to sparkle and the stars to shine.
Fling out, fling out, with cheer and shout, To all the winds of Our Country's Banner! Be every bar, and every star, Displayed in full and glorious manner! Blow, zephyrs, blow, keep the dear ensign flying! Blow, zephyrs, sweetly mournful, sighing, sighing, sighing!
O, beautiful and grand, My own, my native land! Of thee I boast: Great empire of the west, The dearest and the best, Made up of all the rest, I love thee most.
Poetry is unfallen speech. Paradise knew no other, for no other would suffice to answer the need of those ecstatic days of innocence. — © Abraham Coles
Poetry is unfallen speech. Paradise knew no other, for no other would suffice to answer the need of those ecstatic days of innocence.
O loving woman, man's fulfillment, sweet, Completing him not otherwise complete! How void and useless the sad remnant left Were he of her, his nobler part, bereft.
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