Skip to content

Yes; for, while memory languidly is fetching
Her treasures from the depths which they have lain among,
A fragile hand — how thin — how weak — is sadly sketching
Figures and fancies that cell's white walls along.
On the lip there is a murmur —
It is the swan's last song.

— Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Another quote →

More quotes by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

Hope is a timid thing,
Fearful, and weak, and born in suffering;
At least, such Hope as human life can bring.

Love, thou hast hopes like summers, short and bright,
Moments of ecstasy, and maddening dreams,
Intense delicious throbs!

The Improvisatrice (1824)

And Love is like the lightning in its might,
Winging where least bethought its fiery flight,
Melting the blade, despite the scabbard's guard.

The Golden Violet (1827)

His heart is like a maggot-eaten nut:
There's nothing in it ; but 'tis closely shut.

Great power is almost always a great evil.

Romance and Reality (1831)

All Letitia Elizabeth Landon quotes →

Attribution

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