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The saddest thing that befalls a soul is when it loses faith in god and woman.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Saddest
Loses
Faith
Woman
Soul
Thing
Befalls

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Seated in my library at night, and looking on the silent faces of my books, I am occasionally visited by a strange sense of the supernatural.
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Trifles make up the happiness or the misery of mortal life.
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My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
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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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How deeply seated in the human heart is the liking for gardens and gardening.
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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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There is nothing good in this world which time does not improve.
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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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A man gazing at the stars is proverbially at the mercy of the puddles in the road.
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To sit for one's portrait is like being present at one's own creation.
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In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines.
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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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To have to die is a distinction of which no man is proud.
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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.
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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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Each time we love,We turn a nearer and a broader markTo that keen archer, Sorrow, and he strikes.
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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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An old novel has a history of its own.
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If the egotist is weak, his egotism is worthless. If the egotist is strong, acute, full of distinctive character, his egotism is precious, and remains a possession of the race.
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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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