Quote

My garden, with its silence and pulses of fragrance that come and go on the airy undulations, affects me like sweet music. Care stops at the gates, and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Like
Smell
Airy
Garden
Pulse
Sweet
Fragrance
Silence
Affects
Nature
Scent
Care
Stops
Wistfully
Music
Gates
Pulses
Come
Bars
Gazes

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A brave soul is a thing which all things serve.
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The man who in this world can keep the whiteness of his soul is not likely to lose it in any other.
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Some books are drenchèd sandsOn which a great soul's wealth lies all in heaps,Like a wrecked argosy.
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Fine phrases I value more than bank-notes. I have ear for no other harmony than the harmony of words. To be occasionally quoted is the only fame I care for.
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Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
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Winter does not work only on a broad scale he is careful in trifles.
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The greatness of an artist or a writer does not depend on what he has in common with other artists and writers, but on what he has peculiar to himself.
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Trees are your best antiques
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An old novel has a history of its own.
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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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My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
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We are never happy we can only remember that we were so once.
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Books are a finer world within the world. (1863)
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God has thickly strewn infinity with grandeur.
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It is not of so much consequence what you say, as how you say it. Memorable sentences are memorable on account of some single irradiating word.
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Eternity doth wear upon her face the veil of time. They only see the veil, and thus they know not what they stand so near!
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To sit for one's portrait is like being present at one's own creation.
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Every man's road in life is marked by the grave of his personal likings.
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