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Sweet April's tears, Dead on the hem of May.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Sweet
Dead
May
Hem
April
Tears

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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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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.
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An old novel has a history of its own.
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The greatness of an artist or a writer does not depend on what he has in common with other artists and writers, but on what he has peculiar to himself.
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Eternity doth wear upon her face the veil of time. They only see the veil, and thus they know not what they stand so near!
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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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To bring the best human qualities to anything like perfection, to fill them with the sweet juices of courtesy and charity, prosperity, or, at all events, a moderate amount of it, is required,--just as sunshine is needed for the ripening of peaches and apricots.
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A single soul is richer than all the worlds.
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God has thickly strewn infinity with grandeur.
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Fine phrases I value more than bank-notes. I have ear for no other harmony than the harmony of words. To be occasionally quoted is the only fame I care for.
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My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
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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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Every day travels toward death the last only arrives at it.
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I go into my library and all history unrolls before me.
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Nature never quite goes along with us. She is somber at weddings, sunny at funerals, and she frowns on ninety-nine out of a hundred picnics.
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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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Trifles make up the happiness or the misery of mortal life.
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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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It is not of so much consequence what you say, as how you say it. Memorable sentences are memorable on account of some single irradiating word.
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Trees are your best antiques
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