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The dead keep their secrets, and in a while we shall be as wise as they - and as taciturn.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Wise
Shall
Secret
Keep
Taciturn
Secrets
Dead

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Not on the stage alone, in the world also, a man's real character comes out best in his asides.
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To be occasionally quoted is the only fame I care for.
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Sweet April's tears, Dead on the hem of May.
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I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.
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An old novel has a history of its own.
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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.
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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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Every man's road in life is marked by the grave of his personal likings.
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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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A man can bear a world's contempt when he has that within which says he's worthy. When he contemns himself, there burns the hell.
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In my garden, care stops at the gate and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.
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My garden, with its silence and pulses of fragrance that come and go on the airy undulations, affects me like sweet music. Care stops at the gates, and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.
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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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A bottomless pit of violence, a Tower of Babel where all are speakers and no hearers.
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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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Every day travels toward death the last only arrives at it.
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A poem round and perfect as a star.
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Trifles make up the happiness or the misery of mortal life.
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We have two lives The soul of man is like the rolling world, One half in day, the other dipt in night The one has music and the flying cloud, The other, silence and the wakeful stars.
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The truly great rest in the knowledge of their own deserts, nor seek the conformation of the world.
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