THE MOST EXTENSIVE
ON THE INTERNET
There is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have despaired and have recovered hope.
There is no feeling, perhaps, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music,--that does not make a man sing or play the better.
There is no killing the suspicion that deceit has once begotten.
There is no sorrow I have thought more about than that,--to love what is great, and try to reach it, and yet to fail.
They the royal-hearted women are
Who nobly love the noblest, yet have grace
For needy suffering lives in lowliest place,
Carrying a choicer sunlight in their smile,
The heavenliest ray that pitieth the vile.
Those old stories of visions and dreams guiding men have their truth; we are saved by making the future present to ourselves.
Those only can thoroughly feel the meaning of death who know what is perfect love.
To be a poet is too have a soul so quick to discern that no shade of quality escapes it, and so quick to feel that discernment is but a hand playing with finely ordered variety on the chords of emotion: a soul in which knowledge passes instantaneously into feeling, and feeling dashes back as a new organ of knowledge.
To manage men one ought to have a sharp mind in a velvet sheath.
To the old, sorrow is sorrow; to the young, it is despair.
To think of the part one little woman can play in the life of a man, so that to renounce her may be a very good imitation of heroism, and to win her may be a discipline.
Under every guilty secret there is hidden a brood of guilty wishes, whose unwholesome infecting life is cherished by the darkness.
Until every good man is brave, we must expect to find many good women timid--too timid even to believe in the correctness of their own best promptings, when these would place them in a minority.
Veracity is a plant of Paradise, and the seeds have never flourished beyond the walls.
We are all of us imaginative in some form or other; for images are the brood of desire.
We are led on, like little children, by a way we know not.
We hand folks over to God's mercy, and show none ourselves.
We mortals, men and women, devour many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the tears and look a little pale about the lips, and in answer to inquiries say, "Oh, nothing!" Pride helps us; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide our own hurts--not to hurt others.
We must not inquire too curiously into motives. They are apt to become feeble in the utterance; the aroma is mixed with the grosser air. We must keep the germinating grain away from the light.
What believer sees a disturbing omission or infelicity? The text, whether of prophet or of poet, expands for whatever we can put into it; and even his bad grammar is sublime.
What furniture can give such finish to a room as a tender woman's face? And is there any harmony of tints that has such stirring of delight as the sweet modulation of her voice?
What is opportunity to the man who can't use it? An unfecundated egg, which the waves of time wash away into nonentity.
When death, the great Reconciler, has come, it is never our tenderness that we repent of, but our severity.
When one is five-and-twenty, one has not chalk-stones at one's finger-ends that the touch of a handsome girl should be entirely indifferent.
When what is good comes of age, and is likely to live, there is reason for rejoicing.
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