Joaquin Miller Quotes

Physiognomy is often a great falsifier, though as a rule it is honest enough.

Tis midnight now. The bend and broken moon, Batter'd and black, as from a thousand battles, Hangs silent on the purple walls of Heaven.

Lonely as God, and white as a winter moon, Mount Shasta starts up sudden and solitary from the heart of the great black forests of Northern California

In men whom men condemn as ill I find so much of goodness still, In men whom men pronounce divine I find so much of sin and blot, I do not dare to draw a line Between the two, where God has not.

Men say, "By pride the angels fell from heaven." By pride they reached a place from which they fell!

I throw a kiss across the sea, I drink the winds as drinking wine, And dream they all are blown from thee, I catch the whisper'd kiss of thine.

UNDER THE STORM AND THE CLOUD TODAY, AND TODAY THE HARD PERIL AND PAIN - TOMORROW THE STONE WILL BE ROLLED AWAY, FOR THE SUNSHINE SHALL FOLLOW THE RAIN

All honor to him who shall win the prize. The world has cried for a thousand years. But to him who tries and fails and dies, I give great honor and glory and tears.

The bravest battle that ever was fought; Shall I tell you where and when? On the maps of the world you will find it not; It was fought by the mothers of men.

The biggest dog has been a pup.

The soul that feeds on books alone - I count that soul exceeding small That lives alone by book and creed, - A soul that has not learned to read.

Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!

Merciful Father, I will not complain. I know that the sunshine shall follow the rain.

That man who lives for self alone, Lives for the meanest mortal known.

O woman, born first to believe us; Yea, also born first to forget; Born first to betray and deceive us, Yet first to repent and regret.

Men lie, who lack courage to tell truth--the cowards!

He gives twice who gives quickly. credited to Publius Syrus Mimus.

Fame lulls the fever of the soul, and makes Us feel that we have grasp'd an immortality.

Man's books are but a climbing stair, Lain step by step, like stairs of stone; The stairway here, the temple there - Man's lampad honor, and his trust, The God who called him from the dust.

All you can hold in your cold dead hand is what you have given away.

God's poet is silence! His song is unspoken, And yet so profound, so loud, and so far, It fills you, it thrills you with measures unbroken, And as soft, and as fair, and as far as a star.

I saw the lightnings gleaming rod. Reach forth and write upon the sky The awful autograph of God.

There are many To-morrows, my Love, my Love, There is only one To-day.

The living grave of crime.

The gold-barr'd butterflies to and from And over the waterside wander'd and wove As heedless and idle as clouds that rove And drift by the peaks of perpetual snow.

He gained a world; he gave that world Its grandest lesson: "On! sail on!"

Knowledge is Bought only with a weary care, And wisdom means a world of pain.

That man who lives for self alone Lives for the meanest mortal known.

"Brave admiral say but one good word: What shall we do when hope is gone?" The words leapt like a leaping sword: "Sail on! sail on! and on!"

The bravest battle that ever was fought Shall I tell you where and when? On the maps of the world you will find it not It was fought by the mothers of men.

But to him who tries and fails and dies I give great honor and glory and tears.

In men whom men condemn as ill I find so much of goodness still In men whom men pronounce divine I find so much of sin and blot I do not dare to draw a line Between the two where God has not.