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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.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Sunset
Cried
Beach
Paved
West
Sullen
Sun
Barren
Hell
Tide
Fire
Behold
Tides

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Seated in my library at night, and looking on the silent faces of my books, I am occasionally visited by a strange sense of the supernatural.
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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.
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The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.
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It is the sternest philosophy, but on the whole the truest, that, in the wide arena of the world, failure and success are not accidents, as we so frequently suppose, but the strictest justice.
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A single soul is richer than all the worlds.
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The globe has been circumnavigated, but no man ever yet has you may survey a kingdom and note the result in maps, but all the savants in the world could not produce a reliable map of the poorest human personality.
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Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
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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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To have to die is a distinction of which no man is proud.
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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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Good-humor and, generosity carry day with the popular heart all the world over.
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My friend is not perfect-no more than I am-and so we suit each other admirable.
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Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.
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Most brilliant star upon the crest of Time Is England. England!
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Sweet April's tears, Dead on the hem of May.
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Books are a finer world within the world. (1863)
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I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.
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The pleased sea on a white-breasted shore-- A shore that wears on her alluring brows Rare shells, far brought, the love-gifts of the sea, That blushed a tell-tale.
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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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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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