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The sea complains upon a thousand shores.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Complaining
Sea
Ocean
Thousand
Upon
Complains
Shores
Shore

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The only thing a man knows is himself.
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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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It is the sternest philosophy, but on the whole the truest, that, in the wide arena of the world, failure and success are not accidents, as we so frequently suppose, but the strictest justice.
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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.
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I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.
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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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I have learned to prize the quiet, lightning deed, not the applauding thunder at its heels that men call fame.
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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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The spot of ground on which a man has stood is forever interesting to him.
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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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Everything is sweetened by risk.
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A man does not plant a tree for himself he plants it for posterity.
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We are never happy we can only remember that we were so once.
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If you do your fair day's work, you are certain to get your fair day's wage - in praise or pudding, whichever happens to suit your taste.
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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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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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How deeply seated in the human heart is the liking for gardens and gardening.
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My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
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Sweet April's tears, Dead on the hem of May.
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