- Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds
Exhilarate the spirit, and restore
The tone of languid Nature.
- William Cowper, The Task (1785), Book I, line 181.
- The town is man's world, but this (country life) is of God.
- William Cowper, The Task (1785), Book V, line 16.
- The country is lyric,—the town dramatic. When mingled, they make the most perfect musical drama.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Kavanagh: A Tale (1849), Chapter XIII.
- Rus in urbe.
- Country in town.
- Martial, Epigrams (c. 80-104 AD), Book XII. 57. 21.
Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations
- Quotes reported in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 140-41.
- The East bow'd low before the blast,
In patient, deep disdain.
She let the legions thunder past,
And plunged in thought again.
- Matthew Arnold, Obermann Once More, Stanza 28.
- There are Batavian graces in all he says.
- Benjamin Disraeli, Retort to Beresford Hope (descended from an Amsterdam family), who had referred to Disraeli as an "Asian Mystery".
- O crassum ingenium. Suspicor fuisse Batavum.
- Oh, dense intelligence. I suspect that it was Batavian (i.e. from the Netherlands-Batavia).
- Erasmus, Naufragium.
- A land flowing with milk and honey.
- Exodus, III. 8; Jeremiah, XXXII. 22.
- I hate the countrie's dirt and manners, yet
I love the silence; I embrace the wit;
A courtship, flowing here in full tide.
But loathe the expense, the vanity and pride.
No place each way is happy.
- William Habington, To my Noblest Friend, I. C. Esquire.
- Far from the gay cities, and the ways of men.
- Homer, The Odyssey, Book XIV, line 410. Pope's translation.
- To one who has been long in city pent,
'Tis very sweet to look into the fair
And open face of heaven,—to breathe a prayer
Full in the smile of the blue firmament.
- John Keats, Sonnet XIV, line 1.
- And as I read
I hear the crowing cock, I hear the note
Of lark and linnet, and from every page
Rise odors of ploughed field or flowery mead.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Chaucer.
- Somewhat back from the village street
Stands the old-fashion'd country seat,
Across its antique portico
Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw;
And from its station in the hall
An ancient time-piece says to all,—
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Old Clock on the Stairs.
- Mine be a cot beside the hill;
A beehive's hum shall soothe my car;
A willowy brook, that turns a mill,
With many a fall, shall linger near.
- Samuel Rogers, A Wish.
- Nec sit terris ultima Thule.