655 quotes
There is a favourite in every family; and, generally speaking, that favourite is the most troublesome member in it.
We again repeat, that there is no temper so communicative as an imaginative one.
Heath's book of Beauty, 1833 (1832)
—what an odd thing it is, that the indications of terror are usually ludicrous !
Heath's book of Beauty, 1833 (1832)
A man above thirty cannot enter into the wild visions of an enthusiastic girl.
Love is a pearl of purest hue,
But stormy waves are round it;
And dearly may a woman rue,
The hour that she found it.
The Improvisatrice (1824)
Time is the great leveller, but he is also the sanctifier and the beautifier.
The timid temper lives in perpetual terror, the nobler one braces itself to endure when ever the appointed time shall come.
Few save the poor feel for the poor,
The rich know not how hard
It is to be of needful food
And needful rest debarred.
He who seeks pleasure with reference to himself, not others, will ever find that pleasure is only another name for discontent.
Heath's book of Beauty, 1833 (1832)
This hour will pass — all passes,
On this life's fleeting scene ;
But still the future glasses
All that the past has been.
But the passion of jealousy cannot exist without the passion of love, and is like its parent, creative, impetuous, and credulous.
How many glorious structures we had raised
Upon Hope's sandy basis!
The Improvisatrice (1824)
The discharge of a duty from affection is the best solace for sorrow.
Heath's book of Beauty, 1833 (1832)
What was our parting ?—one wild kiss,
How wild I may not say,
One long and breathless clasp, and then
As life were past away.
Faintly coloured like a dream of bliss, a half formed rainbow hung on the departing storm, as fearful of yet giving promise of peace.
Even in childhood's innocence of pleasure
Lives that destroying spirit which in time
Will waste, then want, the best of happiness.
The Vow of the Peacock (1835)
For when do friends not delight in the sorrow of the prosperous?
Heath's book of Beauty, 1833 (1832)
The gallantry of an English peasant rarely expands into words.
Heath's book of Beauty, 1833 (1832)
One of those gifted ones that walk the earth,
Like angels in their beauty, and the while
The air is filled with music from their wings.
Death's a fearful thing when we must count its steps!
The Improvisatrice (1824)