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Sentiment is a disgrace, instead of an ornament, unless it lead us to good actions.

Ann Radcliffe

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Ann Radcliffe
Age: 58 †
Born: 1764
Born: July 9
Died: 1823
Died: February 7
Author
Novelist
Writer
Ann Ward
Anne Radcliffe
Anne Ward
Ann Ward Radcliffe
Ann Ward
Mrs. Radcliffe
Ann Radcliffe
née Ward
Actions
Lead
Unless
Ornament
Instead
Ornaments
Action
Sentimentality
Good
Sentiment
Disgrace
Sentiments

More quotes by Ann Radcliffe

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When the mind has once begun to yield to the weakness of superstition, trifles impress it with the force of conviction.
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But no matter for that, you can be tolerably happy, perhaps, notwithstanding but as for guessing how happy I am, or knowing anything about the matter,--- O! its quite beyond what you can understand.
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When justice happens to oppose prejudice, we are apt to believe it virtuous to disobey her.
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It is dismal coming home, when there is nobody to welcome one!
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What is acquired without labor is seldom worth acquiring at all.
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Happiness has this essential difference from what is commonly called pleasure, that virtue forms its basis, and virtue being the offspring of reason, may be expected to produce uniformity of effect.
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There are some few instances in which it is virtuous to disobey.
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Vanity often produces unreasonable alarm.
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The passions are the seeds of vices as well as of virtues, from which either may spring, accordingly as they are nurtured. Unhappy they who have never been taught the art to govern them!
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Never will I give my hand where my heart does not accompany it.
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Do you believe your heart to be, indeed, so hardened, that you can look without emotion on the suffering, to which you would condemn me?
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Fate sits on these dark battlements and frowns, And as the portal opens to receive me, A voice in hollow murmurs through the courts Tells of a nameless deed.
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The refreshing pleasure from the first view of nature, after the pain of illness, and the confinement of a sick-chamber, is above the conceptions, as well as the descriptions, of those in health.
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Happiness arises in a state of peace, not of tumult.
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The world ridicules a passion which it seldom feels its scenes, and its interests, distract the mind, deprave the taste, corrupt the heart, and love cannot exist in a heart that has lost the meek dignity of innocence.
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I tasted too what was called the sweet of revenge - but it was transient, it expired even with the object, that provoked it.
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There is no accounting for tastes.
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How strange it is, that a fool or knave, with riches, should be treated with more respect by the world, than a good man, or a wise man in poverty!
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How despicable is that humanity, which can be contented to pity, where it might assuage!
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I wish that all those, who on this night are not merry enough to speak before they think, may ever after be grave enough to think before they speak!
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