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We are never happy we can only remember that we were so once.
Alexander Smith
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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Happiness
Happy
Remember
Never
More quotes by Alexander Smith
The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.
Alexander Smith
God has thickly strewn infinity with grandeur.
Alexander Smith
To-day is always different from yesterday.
Alexander Smith
Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.
Alexander Smith
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.
Alexander Smith
In my garden, care stops at the gate and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.
Alexander Smith
The truly great rest in the knowledge of their own deserts, nor seek the conformation of the world.
Alexander Smith
Happiness never lays its finger on its pulse. If we attempt to steal a glimpse of its features it disappears.
Alexander Smith
One never hugs one's good luck so affectionately as when listening to the relation of some horrible misfortunes which has overtaken others.
Alexander Smith
My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
Alexander Smith
I have learned to prize the quiet, lightning deed, not the applauding thunder at its heels that men call fame.
Alexander Smith
To sit for one's portrait is like being present at one's own creation.
Alexander Smith
Stirling, like a huge brooch, clasps Highlands and Lowlands together.
Alexander Smith
In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines.
Alexander Smith
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.
Alexander Smith
A man's real possession is his memory. In nothing else is he rich, in nothing else is he poor.
Alexander Smith
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.
Alexander Smith
A poem round and perfect as a star.
Alexander Smith
There is no ghost so difficult to lay as the ghost of an injury.
Alexander Smith
The sea complains upon a thousand shores.
Alexander Smith