Joanna Baillie Quotes
Good-morrow to thy sable beak, And glossy plumage, dark and sleek, Thy crimson moon and azure eye
I have seen the day, when, if a man made himself ridiculous, the world would laugh at him. But now, everything that is mean, disgusting, and absurd, pleases them but so much the better!
My day is closed! the gloom of night is come! a hopeless darkness settles over my fate.
Oh swiftly glides the bonnie boat, Just parted from the shore, And to the fisher's chorus-note Soft moves the dipping oar.
Half-uttered praise is to the curious mind, as to the eye half-veiled beauty is, more precious than the whole.
O lovely Sisters! is it true That they are all inspired by you, And write by inward magic charm'd, And high enthusiasm warm'd?
I wish I were with some of the wild people that run in the woods, and know nothing about accomplishments!
A woman is seldom roused to great and courageous exertion but when something most dear to her is in immediate danger.
Tis ever thus: indulgence spoils the base; Raising up pride, and lawless turbulence, Like noxious vapors from the fulsome marsh When morning shines upon it.
The strength of man sinks in the hour of trial; but there doth live a Power that to the battle girdeth the weak.
I believe this earth on which we stand is but the vestibule to glorious mansions through which a moving crowd forever press.
The tyrant now Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber The watch-dog guards his couch, the only friend He now dare trust.
Men's actions to futurity appear but as the events to which they are conjoined do give them consequence.
It ever is the marked propensity of restless and aspiring minds to look into the stretch of dark futurity.
This will be triumph! This will be happiness! Yea, that very thing, happiness, which I have been pursuing all my life, and have never yet overtaken.
He that will not give some portion of his ease, his blood, his wealth, for other's good, is a poor, frozen churl.
It is so seldom that a young fellow has any inclination for the company of an old man. . .
Still on it creeps, Each little moment at another's heels, Till hours, days, years, and ages are made up Of such small parts as these, and men look back Worn and bewilder'd, wondering how it is.
Busy work brings after ease; Ease brings sport and sport brings rest; For young and old, of all degrees, The mingled lot is best.
The inward sighs of humble penitence Rise to the ear of Heaven, when peal'd hymns Are scatter'd with the sounds of common air.
Words of affection, howsoe'er expressed, The latest spoken still are deem'd the best.
I can bear scorpion's stings, tread fields of fire, in frozen gulfs of cold eternal lie, be tossed aloft through tracts of endless void, but cannot live in shame.
A good man's prayers will from the deepest dungeon climb heaven's height, and bring a blessing down.
There is a sight all hearts beguiling-- A youthful mother to her infant smiling, Who with spread arms and dancing feet, A cooing voice, returns its answer sweet.
O lovely Sisters! is it true That they are all inspired by you And write by inward magic charm'd And high enthusiasm warm'd?
This will be triumph! This will be happiness! Yea that very thing happiness which I have been pursuing all my life and have never yet overtaken.
Still on it creeps Each little moment at another's heels Till hours days years and ages are made up Of such small parts as these and men look back Worn and bewilder'd wondering how it is.
The brave man is not he who feels no fear For that were stupid and irrational But he whose noble soul its fear subdues And barely dares the danger nature shrinks from.
I wish I were with some of the wild people that run in the woods and know nothing about accomplishments!
