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A true test of friendship, to sit or walk with a friend for an hour in perfect silence , without wearying of one another's company.

Dinah Maria Murlock Craik

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Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Happiness is not an end - it is only a means, and adjunct, a consequence.
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O, the mulberry-tree is of trees the queen! Bare long after the rest are green But as time steals onwards, while none perceives Slowly she clothes herself with leaves.
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Ethics, as has been well said, are the finest fruits of humanity, but they are not its roots
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It is the Christmas time: And up and down 'twixt heaven and earth, In glorious grief and solemn mirth, The shining angels climb.
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The irrevocable Hand That opes the year's fair gate, doth ope and shut The portals of our earthly destinies We walk through blindfold, and the noiseless doors Close after us, for ever.
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Love never stands still it must inevitably be either growing or decaying - especially the love of marriage.
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If I had to write a book, I could not find anything in the world worth saying - as is indeed the case with many voluminous authors.
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It may often be noticed, the less virtuous people are, the more they shrink away from the slightest whiff of the odour of un-sanctity. The good are ever the most charitable, the pure are the most brave.
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O the green things growing, the green things growing, The faint sweet smell of the green things growing! I should like to live, whether I smile or grieve, Just to watch the happy life of my green things growing.
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One only right we have to assert in common with mankind--and that is as much in our hands as theirs--is the right of having something to do.
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according to the old joke, married people are often like little boys bathing, who cry with chattering teeth to the boys on the shore, 'Do come in, it's so warm' - it is not always warm.
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O how beautiful is morning! How the sunbeams strike the daisies And the kingcups fill the meadow Like a golden-shielded army Marching to the uplands fair.
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Why cannot one always do, not only the right thing, but at the right time?
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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The world! It is a word capable of as diverse interpretations or misinterpretations as the thing itself - a thing by various people supposed to belong to heaven, man, or the devil, or alternatively to all three.
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With faces like dead lovers who died true.
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Loud wind, strong wind, sweeping o'er the mountains, Fresh wind, free wind, blowing from the sea, Pour forth thy vials like streams from airy mountains, Draughts of life to me.
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An author departs he does not die.
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Young Dandelion On a hedge-side Said young Dandelion Who'll be my bride? Said young Dandelion With a sweet air, I have my eye on Miss Daisy fair.
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... it does not do to tell great people anything unpleasant.
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We never discover the value of things till we have lost them.
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