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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

More quotes by Alexander Smith

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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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Death, which we are accustomed to consider an evil, really acts for us the friendliest part, and takes away the commonplace of existence.
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A man does not plant a tree for himself he plants it for posterity.
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The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.
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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.
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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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Happiness never lays its finger on its pulse. If we attempt to steal a glimpse of its features it disappears.
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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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If you wish to make a man look noble, your best course is to kill him. What superiority he may have inherited from his race, what superiority nature may have personally gifted him with, comes out in death.
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A tender sadness drops upon my soul, like the soft twilight dropping on the world.
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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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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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I go into my library and all history unrolls before me.
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In my garden I spend my days, in my library I spend my nights. My interests are divided between my geraniums and my books. With the flower I am in the present with the book I am in the past.
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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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An old novel has a history of its own.
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A thought may be very commendable as a thought, but I value it chiefly as a window through which I can obtain insight on the thinker.
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The sea complains upon a thousand shores.
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To be occasionally quoted is the only fame I care for.
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We are never happy we can only remember that we were so once.
Alexander Smith