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Distrust that man who tells you to distrust. He takes the measure of his own small soul, and thinks the world no larger.

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
World
Tells
Measure
Thinks
Takes
Small
Soul
Men
Distrust
Thinking
Larger

More quotes by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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While forced to dwell apart from thy dear face, Love, robed like sorrow, led me by the hand And taught my doubting heart to understand That which has puzzled all the human race.
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A day which passed without a poem from my pen I considered lost and misused.
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We flatter those we scarcely know, We please the fleeting guest And deal full many a thoughtless blow, To those who love us best. 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. There is new strength, repose of mind, and inspiration in fresh apparel.
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When the heart grows weary, all things seem dreary When the burden grows heavy, the way seems long. Thank God for sending kind death as an ending, Like a grand Amen to a minor song.
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And the smile that is worth the praises of earth is the smile that shines through tears.
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So many gods, so many creeds, so many paths that wind and wind while just the art of being kind is all the sad world needs.
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Love is the crown that glorifies the curse That brands and burdens it is life and death. It is the great law of the universe And nothing can exist without its breath.
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Do you wish the world were happy? Then remember day by day, just to scatter seeds of kindness as you pass along the way. . . .
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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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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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How happy they are, in all seeming, How gay, or how smilingly proud, How brightly their faces are beaming, These people who make up the crowd!
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear As valued friends. He cannot know The zest of life who runneth here His earthly race without a foe.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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I like the roar of cities. In the mart, Where busy toilers strive for place and gain, I seem to read humanity's great heart, And share its hopes, its pleasures, and its pain.
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Wiped the cold dew-drops from his cheek And sought the mourner's side again. Once more, dear lady, I must speak: Your last remaining son was slain Just at the closing of the fight Twas he who sent me here to-night. God knows, the man said afterward, The fight itself was not so hard.
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It has ever been since time began, and ever will be, till time lose breath, that love is a mood - no more - to man, and love to a woman is life or death.
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For here lies the pleasure of living: In taking God's bounties, and giving The gifts back again.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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There is no satisfaction that can compare with looking back across the years and finding you've grown in self-control, judgment, generosity, and unselfishness.
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Let me not hurt, by any selfish deed Or thoughtless word, the heart of foe or friend Nor would I pass, unseeing, worthy need, Or sin by silence when I should defend... The world is better that I lived to-day.
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Time sped. And the poet through sorrow Became like his suffering kind. Again he toiled over his poems To lighten the grief of his mind.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Love is the only duty that we know.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox