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Trifles make up the happiness or the misery of mortal life.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Mortals
Misery
Happiness
Make
Time
Life
Trifles
Mortal

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In my garden, care stops at the gate and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.
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The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.
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Christmas is the day that holds all time together.
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An old novel has a history of its own.
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To sit for one's portrait is like being present at one's own creation.
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Everything is sweetened by risk.
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Looking forward into an empty year strikes one with a certain awe, because one finds therein no recognition. The years behind have a friendly aspect, and they are warmed by the fires we have kindled, and all their echoes are the echoes of our own voices.
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Style, after all, rather than thought, is the immortal thing in literature.
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A man can bear a world's contempt when he has that within which says he's worthy. When he contemns himself, there burns the hell.
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My friend is not perfect-no more than I am-and so we suit each other admirable.
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Sweet April's tears, Dead on the hem of May.
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We have two lives The soul of man is like the rolling world, One half in day, the other dipt in night The one has music and the flying cloud, The other, silence and the wakeful stars.
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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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In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October, when the trees are bare to the mild heavens, and the red leaves bestrew the road, and you can feel the breath of winter, morning and evening - no days so calm, so tenderly solemn, and with such a reverent meekness in the air.
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To-day is always different from yesterday.
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We bury love Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.
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There is nothing good in this world which time does not improve.
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Most brilliant star upon the crest of Time Is England. England!
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We are never happy we can only remember that we were so once.
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If you wish to make a man look noble, your best course is to kill him. What superiority he may have inherited from his race, what superiority nature may have personally gifted him with, comes out in death.
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