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Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame;
Each to his passion; what's in a name?

— Helen Hunt Jackson Poems (1892)

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More quotes by Helen Hunt Jackson

When love is at its best, one loves
So much that he cannot forget.

On the king’s gate the moss grew gray;
The king came not. They called him dead;
And made his eldest son one day
Slave in his father’s stead.

Verses (1874)

But great loves, to the last, have pulses red;
All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.

The voice of one who goes before to make
The paths of June more beautiful, is thine
Sweet May!

Verses (1874)

The goldenrod is yellow;
The corn is turning brown:
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.

Poems (1892)

All Helen Hunt Jackson quotes →

Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Helen Hunt Jackson (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.