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A bottomless pit of violence, a Tower of Babel where all are speakers and no hearers.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
History
Hearers
Babel
Bottomless
Tower
Pits
Towers
Speakers
Violence

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There is no ghost so difficult to lay as the ghost of an injury.
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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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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. 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.
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Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.
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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.
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I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.
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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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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
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I go into my library and all history unrolls before me.
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Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
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There is nothing good in this world which time does not improve.
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The great man is the man who does a thing for the first time.
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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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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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Good-humor and, generosity carry day with the popular heart all the world over.
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Some books are drenchèd sandsOn which a great soul's wealth lies all in heaps,Like a wrecked argosy.
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A tender sadness drops upon my soul, like the soft twilight dropping on the world.
Alexander Smith
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How deeply seated in the human heart is the liking for gardens and gardening.
Alexander Smith