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Love never stands still it must inevitably be either growing or decaying - especially the love of marriage.

Dinah Maria Murlock Craik

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Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
Must
Inevitably
Never
Stands
Love
Especially
Marriage
Either
Growing
Stills
Still
Decaying

More quotes by Dinah Maria Murlock Craik

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Queens you must always be: queens to your lovers queens to your husbands and your sons, queens of higher mystery to the world beyond. . . . But alas, you are too often idle and careless queens, grasping at majesty in the least things, while you abdicate it in the greatest.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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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.
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.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Autumn Into earth's lap does throw Brown apples gay in a game of play, As the equinoctials blow.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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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.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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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.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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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.
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.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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The present only is a man's possession the past is gone out of his hand wholly, irrevocably. He may suffer from it, learn from it,--in degree, perhaps, expiate it but to brood over it is utter madness.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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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.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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An author departs he does not die.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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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.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Silence sweeter is than speech.
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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Why cannot one always do, not only the right thing, but at the right time?
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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As we sail through life towards death, Bound unto the same port--heaven,-- Friend, what years could us divide?
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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With faces like dead lovers who died true.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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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.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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O, the sweet, sweet twilight just before the time of rest, When the black clouds are driven away, and the stormy winds suppressed.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik
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Every man for himself, and the Devil take the hindmost.
Dinah Maria Murlock Craik