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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
Stealing
Attempt
Lays
Disappears
Disappear
Pulse
Fingers
Glimpse
Happiness
Finger
Never
Steal
Features

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The dead keep their secrets, and in a while we shall be as wise as they - and as taciturn.
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A brave soul is a thing which all things serve.
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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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A man does not plant a tree for himself he plants it for posterity.
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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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Most brilliant star upon the crest of Time Is England. England!
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Trees are your best antiques
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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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In my garden, care stops at the gate and gazes at me wistfully through the bars.
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The pale child, Eve, leading her mother, Night.
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Sweet April's tears, Dead on the hem of May.
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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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Looking forward into an empty year strikes one with a certain awe, because one finds therein no recognition. The years behind have a friendly aspect, and they are warmed by the fires we have kindled, and all their echoes are the echoes of our own voices.
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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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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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My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.
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We bury love Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.
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I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.
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If you wish to preserve your secret, wrap it up in frankness.
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God has thickly strewn infinity with grandeur.
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