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Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Novel
Fiction
History

More quotes by Alexander Smith

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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.
Alexander Smith
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Every day travels toward death the last only arrives at it.
Alexander Smith
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The spot of ground on which a man has stood is forever interesting to him.
Alexander Smith
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The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.
Alexander Smith
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My friend is not perfect-no more than I am-and so we suit each other admirable.
Alexander Smith
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If a man is worth knowing at all, he is worth knowing well.
Alexander Smith
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A single soul is richer than all the worlds.
Alexander Smith
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Sweet April's tears, Dead on the hem of May.
Alexander Smith
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A poem round and perfect as a star.
Alexander Smith
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To bring the best human qualities to anything like perfection, to fill them with the sweet juices of courtesy and charity, prosperity, or, at all events, a moderate amount of it, is required,--just as sunshine is needed for the ripening of peaches and apricots.
Alexander Smith
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God has thickly strewn infinity with grandeur.
Alexander Smith
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There is a certain even-handed justice in Time and for what he takes away he gives us something in return. He robs us of elasticity of limb and spirit, and in its place he brings tranquility and repose—the mild autumnal weather of the soul.
Alexander Smith
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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.
Alexander Smith
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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.
Alexander Smith
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Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
Alexander Smith
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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!
Alexander Smith
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In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines.
Alexander Smith
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Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.
Alexander Smith
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In my garden, care stops at the gate and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.
Alexander Smith
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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.
Alexander Smith