Thomas Campbell Quote Explained: Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name.

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But sad as angels for the good man’s sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in.

Poet

· Scotland

Angel

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Our land, the first garden of liberty’s tree– It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.

Poet

· Scotland

Garden
Land

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For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom But roses blossom’d each rustic tomb.

- Thomas Campbell

Poet

· Scotland

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The smaller your reality, the more convinced you are that you know everything.

- Thomas Campbell

Poet

· Scotland

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Love’s a fire that needs renewal Of fresh beauty for its fuel.

- Thomas Campbell

Poet

· Scotland

Fire
Love

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Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,Whose truths electrify the sage.

- Thomas Campbell

Poet

· Scotland

Heart
Sage

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What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.

- Thomas Campbell

Poet

· Scotland

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Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, and robes the mountain in its azure hue.

- Thomas Campbell

Poet

· Scotland

Who hath not own’d, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name.

Who hath not own’d, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name.

But sad as angels for the good man’s sin, Weep to record, and blush to give it in.

Our land, the first garden of liberty’s tree– It has been, and shall be, the land of the free.

For there no yew nor cypress spread their glom But roses blossom’d each rustic tomb.

The smaller your reality, the more convinced you are that you know everything.

Love’s a fire that needs renewal Of fresh beauty for its fuel.

Whose lines are mottoes of the heart,Whose truths electrify the sage.

What though my winged hours of bliss have been, Like angel visits, few and far between.

Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, and robes the mountain in its azure hue.

Art is a magic which makes the hours melt away and even days dissolve into seconds

Conjuring is a profession in which no one errs through excess of modesty.

Their ‘magic’ is Art, delivered from many of its human limitations.

Only the magic and the dream are true — all the rest’s a lie.

If I was bound for hell, let it be hell. No more false heaven. No more damned magic.

Not all magic is fireworks and fanfare. Sometimes magic is quiet and sneaks up on you.

At Microsoft, the magic of software is used to take on very interesting challenges.

What if things happened to you—special, magic things—because you’d been preparing for them?

Who hath not own’d, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name.

Who hath not own’d, with rapture-smitten frame, The power of grace, the magic of a name.

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