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Every man's road in life is marked by the grave of his personal likings.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Grave
Graves
Road
Personal
Desire
Every
Men
Likings
Life
Marked

More quotes by Alexander Smith

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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.
Alexander Smith
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The spot of ground on which a man has stood is forever interesting to him.
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A bottomless pit of violence, a Tower of Babel where all are speakers and no hearers.
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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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To bring the best human qualities to anything like perfection, to fill them with the sweet juices of courtesy and charity, prosperity, or, at all events, a moderate amount of it, is required,--just as sunshine is needed for the ripening of peaches and apricots.
Alexander Smith
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Fame is but an inscription on a grave, and glory the melancholy blazon on a coffin lid.
Alexander Smith
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Stirling, like a huge brooch, clasps Highlands and Lowlands together.
Alexander Smith
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In my garden I spend my days, in my library I spend my nights. My interests are divided between my geraniums and my books. With the flower I am in the present with the book I am in the past.
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The only thing a man knows is himself.
Alexander Smith
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Not on the stage alone, in the world also, a man's real character comes out best in his asides.
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There is nothing good in this world which time does not improve.
Alexander Smith
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If a man is worth knowing at all, he is worth knowing well.
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Each time we love,We turn a nearer and a broader markTo that keen archer, Sorrow, and he strikes.
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A poem round and perfect as a star.
Alexander Smith
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One never hugs one's good luck so affectionately as when listening to the relation of some horrible misfortunes which has overtaken others.
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To have to die is a distinction of which no man is proud.
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My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
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We twain have met like the ships upon the sea, Who behold an hour's converse, so short, so sweet: One little hour! and then, away they speed On lonely paths, through mist, and cloud, and foam, To meet no more.
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I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.
Alexander Smith
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Style, after all, rather than thought, is the immortal thing in literature.
Alexander Smith