Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
O harp of life, so speedily unstrung!
The ocean moans over dead men's bones.
Nothing except time is wasted in Italy.
We weep when we are born, Not when we die!
A man is known by the company his mind keeps.
Turn on its noiseless hinges, delicate sleep!
They fail, and they alone, who have not striven.
What is a day to an immortal soul! A breath, no more.
O Liberty...! is it well To leave the gates unguarded?
What probing deep Has ever solved the mystery of sleep?
The man who suspects his own tediousness is yet to be born.
What is lovely never dies, But passes into other loveliness.
It were better to be a soldier's widow than a coward's wife.
Civilization is the lamb's skin in which barbarism masquerades.
The possession of gold has ruined fewer men than the lack of it.
There is no man at once so unselfish and selfish as a man in love.
With the tears a Land hath shed. Their graves should ever be green.
So precious life is! Even to the old, the hours are as a miser's coins!
To be weak, and to know it, is something of a punishment for a proud man.
My mind lets go a thousand things, Like dates of wars and deaths of kings
True art selects and paraphrases, but seldom gives a verbatim translation.
The laurels of an orator who is not a master of literary art wither quickly.
There is a special Providence that watches over idiots, drunken men, and boys.
A man may do worse than make what the world calls a not wholly happy marriage.
How fugitive and brief is mortal life between the budding and the falling leaf.
Gracious to all, to none subservient, Without offense he spoke the word he meant
What is slang in one age sometimes goes into the vocabulary of the purist in the next.
In every age have mighty spirits dwelt unseen with man, biding the hour that needed them.
Every man has within himself a gold mine whose riches are limited only by his own industry.
After a debauch of thunder-shower, the weather takes the pledge and signs it with a rainbow.
The ring of a false coin is not more recognizable than that of a rhyme setting forth a false sorrow.
It is the Lord's Day, and I do believe that cheerful hearts and faces are not unpleasant in His sight.
Hebe's here, May is here! The air is fresh and sunny; And the miser-bees are busy Hoarding golden honey.
To keep the heart unwrinkled, to be hopeful, kindly, cheerful, reverent that is to triumph over old age.
What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness, Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air.
To keep the heart unwrinkled, to be hopeful, kindly, cheerful, reverent - that is to triumph over old age.
Conservatism and respectability have their values, certainly; but has not the unconventional its values also?
That was indeed to live -- at one bold swoop to wrest from darkling death the best that death to life can give.
My father invested his money so securely in the banking business that he was never able to get any of it out again.
A glance, a word -- and joy or pain befalls.... How slight the links are in the chain that binds us to our destiny!
Shakespeare is forever coming into our affairs -- putting in his oar, so to speak -- with some pat word or sentence.
Between the reputation of the author living and the reputation of the same author dead there is ever a wide discrepancy.
There must be such a thing as a child with average ability, but you can't find a parent who will admit that it is his child.
Everyone ought to wish to marry; some ought to be allowed to marry; and others ought to marry twice - to make the average good.
I have frequently noticed how circumstances conspire to help a man, or a boy, when he has thoroughly resolved on doing a thing.
A man should have duties outside of himself; without them, he is a mere balloon, inflated with thin egotism and drifting nowhere.
I beg you come tonight and dine A welcome waits you and sound wine The Roederer chilly to a charm As Juno's breasts the claret warm.
When a man cuts himself absolutely adrift from custom, what an astonishingly light spar floats him! How few his wants are, after all!
The young girl in my story is to be as sensitive to praise as a prism is to light. Whenever anybody praises her she breaks into colors.
A girl does not treat a possible lover with unvarying simplicity and directness. In all its phases, love is complex; friendship is not.