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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.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Soul
Men
World
Whiteness
Likely
Lose
Loses
Keep

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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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Style, after all, rather than thought, is the immortal thing in literature.
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Pleasure has no logic it never treads in its own footsteps.
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If we were to live here always, with no other care than how to feed, clothe, and house ourselves, life would be a very sorry business. It is immeasurably heightened by the solemnity of death.
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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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The great man is the man who does a thing for the first time.
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In my garden, care stops at the gate and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.
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There is nothing good in this world which time does not improve.
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An old novel has a history of its own.
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In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October.
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The spot of ground on which a man has stood is forever interesting to him.
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If you wish to preserve your secret, wrap it up in frankness.
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If a man is worth knowing at all, he is worth knowing well.
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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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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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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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It is a characteristic of pleasure that we can never recognize it to be pleasure till after it is gone.
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Vanity in its idler moments is benevolent, is as willing to give pleasure as to take it, and accepts as sufficient reward for its services a kind word or an approving smile.
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To-day is always different from yesterday.
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