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Happiness never lays its finger on its pulse. If we attempt to steal a glimpse of its features it disappears.

Alexander Smith

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Alexander Smith
Age: 36 †
Born: 1830
Born: December 31
Died: 1867
Died: January 5
Poet
Cille Mheàrnaig
Happiness
Finger
Never
Steal
Features
Stealing
Attempt
Lays
Disappears
Disappear
Pulse
Fingers
Glimpse

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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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Stirling, like a huge brooch, clasps Highlands and Lowlands together.
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A single soul is richer than all the worlds.
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I go into my library and all history unrolls before me.
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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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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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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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It is a characteristic of pleasure that we can never recognize it to be pleasure till after it is gone.
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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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If you do your fair day's work, you are certain to get your fair day's wage - in praise or pudding, whichever happens to suit your taste.
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A tender sadness drops upon my soul, like the soft twilight dropping on the world.
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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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Thoughts must come naturally, like wild-flowers they cannot be forced in a hot-bed, even although aided by the leaf-mould of your past.
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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.
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Good-humor and, generosity carry day with the popular heart all the world over.
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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.
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If you wish to preserve your secret, wrap it up in frankness.
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In my garden, care stops at the gate and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.
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