The mark of rank in nature is capacity for pain,
And the anguish of the singer marks the sweetness of the strain.
— Sarah Williams
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More quotes by Sarah Williams
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.
Can it be, O Christ in heaven, that the holiest suffer most,
That the strongest wander furthest, and more hopelessly are lost?
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light,
I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.
Twilight Hours: A Legacy of Verse (1868)
Reach me down my Tycho Brahé, — I would know him when we meet,
When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet.
Twilight Hours: A Legacy of Verse (1868)
What, for us, are all distractions of men's fellowship and smiles?
What, for us, the goddess Pleasure, with her meretricious wiles?
Twilight Hours: A Legacy of Verse (1868)
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