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Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Death
Facts
Nature
Wells
Well
Hides
Hide
Ugly
Fact

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A single soul is richer than all the worlds.
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Thoughts must come naturally, like wild-flowers they cannot be forced in a hot-bed, even although aided by the leaf-mould of your past.
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Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
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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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My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
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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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To sit for one's portrait is like being present at one's own creation.
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A man's real possession is his memory. In nothing else is he rich, in nothing else is he poor.
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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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Winter does not work only on a broad scale he is careful in trifles.
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To-day is always different from yesterday.
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Looking forward into an empty year strikes one with a certain awe, because one finds therein no recognition. The years behind have a friendly aspect, and they are warmed by the fires we have kindled, and all their echoes are the echoes of our own voices.
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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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The dead keep their secrets, and in a while we shall be as wise as they - and as taciturn.
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The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.
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There is nothing good in this world which time does not improve.
Alexander Smith
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Style, after all, rather than thought, is the immortal thing in literature.
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There is no ghost so difficult to lay as the ghost of an injury.
Alexander Smith
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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.
Alexander Smith