Quote

When we tire of well-worn ways, we seek for new. This restless craving in the souls of men spurs them to climb, and to seek the mountain view.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Age: 68 †
Born: 1850
Born: November 5
Died: 1919
Died: October 30
Author
Poet
Writer
Janesville
Wisconsin
Wells
Souls
Spurs
Well
Seek
Hiking
Way
Mountain
Tire
Men
View
Craving
Views
Restless
Ways
Climb
Change
Climbs
Soul
Worn

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And he who has dwelt with his heart alone, Hears all the music in friendship's tone. So better and better I comprehend How sorrow ever would be our friend.
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Laugh, and the world laughs with you: Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.
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Between the finite and the infinite The missing link of Love has left a void. Supply the link, and earth with Heaven will join In one continued chain of endless life.
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This dream of our youth will fade out as the splendor Fades from the skies when the sun sinks to sleep.
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Talk faith. The world is better off without, Your uttered ignorance and morbid doubt.
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Who would attain to summits still and fair,Must nerve himself through valleys of despair.
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Love gives us copious potions of delight, Of pain and ecstasy, and peace and care Love leads us upward, to the mountain height, And, like an angel, stands beside us there Then thrusts us, demon-like, in some abyss: Where, in the darkness of despair, we grope, Till, suddenly, Love greets us with a kiss And guides us back to flowery fields of hope.
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Hide in your heart a bitter thought, Still it has power to blight Think Love, although you speak it not It gives the world more light.
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One ship drives east and another drives west With the selfsame winds that blow. Tis the set of the sails And not the gales Which tells us the way to go. Like the winds of the seas are the ways of fate, As we voyage along through the life: Tis the set of a soul That decides its goal, And not the calm or the strife.
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Content is not the pathway to great deeds.
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We waste half our strength in a useless regretting We sit by old tombs in the dark too long.
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I knew it the first of the summer, I knew it the same at the end, That you and your love were plighted, But couldn't you be my friend?
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You never can tell when you send a word, Like an arrow shot from a bow By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind, Just where it may chance to go!
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I think of death as some delightful journey that I shall take when all my tasks are done.
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Thou canst not force my soul to wish thee ill, That is the only evil that can kill.
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We two make banquets of the plainest fare In every cup we find the thrill of pleasure... For us life always moves with lilting measure We two, we two, we make our world, our pleasure
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Say you are well, or all is well with you, and God shall hear your words and make them true.
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Through strife the slumbering soul awakes, We learn on error's troubled route The truths we could not prize without The sorrow of our sad mistakes.
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Love is as bitter as the dregs of sin, As sweet as clover-honey in its cell Love is the password whereby souls get in To Heaven--the gate that leads, sometimes, to Hell.
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There are ghosts in the room. As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there They come out of the gloom, And they stand at my side and they lean on my chair.
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