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How the sting of poverty, or small means, is gone when one keeps house for one's own comfort and not for the comfort of one's neighbors.

Dinah Maria Murlock Craik

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Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
Means
Sting
House
Neighbors
Mean
Neighbor
Keeps
Comfort
Poverty
Small
Gone

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God rest you merry, gentlemen, Let nothing you dismay, For Jesus Christ, our Saviour, Was born upon this day, To save us all from Satan's power When we were gone astray. O tidings of comfort and joy! For Jesus Christ, our Saviour, Was born on Christmas Day.
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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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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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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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Be loving, and you will never want for love be humble, and you will never want for guiding.
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A secret at home is like rocks under tide.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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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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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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We have not to construct human nature afresh, but to take it as we find it, and make the best of it.
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As we sail through life towards death, Bound unto the same port--heaven,-- Friend, what years could us divide?
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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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Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts nor to measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together.
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... it does not do to tell great people anything unpleasant.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Those whose own light is quenched are often the light-bringers.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Silence sweeter is than speech.
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absence ... smothers into decay a rootless fancy but often nourishes the least seed of a true affection into full-flowering love.
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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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Wedlock's a lane where there is no turning.
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With faces like dead lovers who died true.
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