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How beautiful the yesterday that stood Over me like a rainbow! I am alone, The past is past. I see the future stretch All dark and barren as a rainy sea.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Stood
Like
Yesterday
Sea
Alone
Heartache
Dark
Rainy
Future
Barren
Stretch
Beautiful
Rainbow
Past

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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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The spot of ground on which a man has stood is forever interesting to him.
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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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Sweet April's tears, Dead on the hem of May.
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God has thickly strewn infinity with grandeur.
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The dead keep their secrets, and in a while we shall be as wise as they - and as taciturn.
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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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Men praise poverty, as the African worships Mumbo Jumbo--from terror of the malign power, and a desire to propitiate at.
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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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If a man is worth knowing at all, he is worth knowing well.
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Style, after all, rather than thought, is the immortal thing in literature.
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To have to die is a distinction of which no man is proud.
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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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Happiness never lays its finger on its pulse. If we attempt to steal a glimpse of its features it disappears.
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Everything is sweetened by risk.
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A bottomless pit of violence, a Tower of Babel where all are speakers and no hearers.
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