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How deeply seated in the human heart is the liking for gardens and gardening.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Deeply
Garden
Desire
Human
Seated
Humans
Gardens
Heart
Liking
Gardening
Complexity

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A man gazing at the stars is proverbially at the mercy of the puddles in the road.
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Good-humor and, generosity carry day with the popular heart all the world over.
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The only thing a man knows is himself.
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Every man's road in life is marked by the grave of his personal likings.
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A bottomless pit of violence, a Tower of Babel where all are speakers and no hearers.
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Happiness never lays its finger on its pulse. If we attempt to steal a glimpse of its features it disappears.
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Pleasure has no logic it never treads in its own footsteps.
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The pleased sea on a white-breasted shore-- A shore that wears on her alluring brows Rare shells, far brought, the love-gifts of the sea, That blushed a tell-tale.
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Every day travels toward death the last only arrives at it.
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The truly great rest in the knowledge of their own deserts, nor seek the conformation of the world.
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There is a certain even-handed justice in Time and for what he takes away he gives us something in return. He robs us of elasticity of limb and spirit, and in its place he brings tranquility and repose—the mild autumnal weather of the soul.
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To be occasionally quoted is the only fame I care for.
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I have learned to prize the quiet, lightning deed, not the applauding thunder at its heels that men call fame.
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Fame is but an inscription on a grave, and glory the melancholy blazon on a coffin lid.
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I go into my library, and all history unrolls before me. I breathe the morning air of the world while the scent of Eden's roses yet lingered in it, while it vibrated only to the world's first brood of nightingales, and to the laugh of Eve. I see the pyramids building I hear the shoutings of the armies of Alexander.
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Yet through all, we know this tangled skein is in the hands of One, Who sees the end from the beginning: He shall unravel all.
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There is nothing good in this world which time does not improve.
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Nature never quite goes along with us. She is somber at weddings, sunny at funerals, and she frowns on ninety-nine out of a hundred picnics.
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Stirling, like a huge brooch, clasps Highlands and Lowlands together.
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The great man is the man who does a thing for the first time.
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