Quote

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.

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
Fear
Corners
Come
Room
Rooms
Gloom
Side
Ghosts
Stand
Lean
Sides
Chair
Alone
Chairs
Dark
Ghost

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For every hour of pain I have had a day of pleasure. For every moment of worry, an hour of content.
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Content is not the pathway to great deeds.
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Distrust that man who tells you to distrust.
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The birds laugh loud and long together When Fashion's followers speed away At the first cool breath of autumn weather. Why, this is the time, cry the birds, to stay! When the deep calm sea and the deep sky over Both look their passion through sun-kissed space, As a blue-eyed maid and her blue-eyed lover Might each gaze into the other's face.
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God made poor woman with no heart, But gave her skill, and tact, and art, And so she lives, and plays her part. We must not blame, but pity her.
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Rejoice, and men will seek you Grieve, and they turn and go, They want full measure of all your pleasure, But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many Be sad, and you lose them all,-- There are none to decline your nectar'd wine, But alone you must drink life's gall.
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And however dark the skies may appear, And however souls may blunder, I tell you it all will work out clear, For good lies over and under.
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Better to wait and yearn, and still to wait, And die at last with unappeased desire, Than live to be the jest of such a fate, For that is my conception of hell-fire.
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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.
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All roads that lead to God are good.
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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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You are your own devil, you are your own God, You fashioned the paths that your footsteps have trod, And no one can save you from error or sin, Until you shall hark to the Spirit within.
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This world is a vaporous jest at best, Tossed off by the gods in laughter, And a cruel attempt at wit were it, If nothing better came after.
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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 much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.
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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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High in the heavens I saw the moon this morning, Albeit the sun shone bright Unto my soul it spoke, in voice of warning, Remember Night!
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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 poor original is better than a good imitation.
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Dear friend, I pray thee, if thou wouldst be proving Thy strong regard for me, Make me no vows. Lip-service is not loving Let thy faith speak for thee.
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