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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
Beautiful
Stretch
Past
Rainbow
Like
Stood
Yesterday
Sea
Alone
Heartache
Dark
Rainy
Future
Barren

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The sun was down, And all the west was paved with sullen fire. I cried, Behold! the barren beach of hell At ebb of tide.
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I go into my library, and all history unrolls before me. I breathe the morning air of the world while the scent of Eden's roses yet lingered in it, while it vibrated only to the world's first brood of nightingales, and to the laugh of Eve. I see the pyramids building I hear the shoutings of the armies of Alexander.
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There is nothing good in this world which time does not improve.
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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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A bottomless pit of violence, a Tower of Babel where all are speakers and no hearers.
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In life there is nothing more unexpected and surprising than the arrivals and departures of pleasure. If we find it in one place today, it is vain to seek it there tomorrow. You can not lay a trap for it.
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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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I go into my library and all history unrolls before me.
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In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October.
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There is a certain even-handed justice in Time and for what he takes away he gives us something in return. He robs us of elasticity of limb and spirit, and in its place he brings tranquility and repose—the mild autumnal weather of the soul.
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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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If a man is worth knowing at all, he is worth knowing well.
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It is a characteristic of pleasure that we can never recognize it to be pleasure till after it is gone.
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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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Vanity in its idler moments is benevolent, is as willing to give pleasure as to take it, and accepts as sufficient reward for its services a kind word or an approving smile.
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Pleasure has no logic it never treads in its own footsteps.
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I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.
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Everything is sweetened by risk.
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The sea complains upon a thousand shores.
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A tender sadness drops upon my soul, like the soft twilight dropping on the world.
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