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In my garden I spend my days in my library I spend my nights.
Alexander Smith
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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Spend
Days
Night
Book
Nights
Library
Lovers
Garden
More quotes by Alexander Smith
Men praise poverty, as the African worships Mumbo Jumbo--from terror of the malign power, and a desire to propitiate at.
Alexander Smith
Trifles make up the happiness or the misery of mortal life.
Alexander Smith
Christmas is the day that holds all time together.
Alexander Smith
The sea complains upon a thousand shores.
Alexander Smith
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.
Alexander Smith
Everything is sweetened by risk.
Alexander Smith
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.
Alexander Smith
Happiness never lays its finger on its pulse. If we attempt to steal a glimpse of its features it disappears.
Alexander Smith
To-day is always different from yesterday.
Alexander Smith
The spot of ground on which a man has stood is forever interesting to him.
Alexander Smith
If a man is worth knowing at all, he is worth knowing well.
Alexander Smith
The truly great rest in the knowledge of their own deserts, nor seek the conformation of the world.
Alexander Smith
Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.
Alexander Smith
Pleasure has no logic it never treads in its own footsteps.
Alexander Smith
The great man is the man who does a thing for the first time.
Alexander Smith
A poem round and perfect as a star.
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
Each time we love,We turn a nearer and a broader markTo that keen archer, Sorrow, and he strikes.
Alexander Smith
The discovery of a grey hair when you are brushing out your whiskers of a morning - first fallen flake of the coming snows of age - is a disagreeable thing.
Alexander Smith
Some books are drenchèd sandsOn which a great soul's wealth lies all in heaps,Like a wrecked argosy.
Alexander Smith