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Time after time have nations, ay, and rich and strong nations, learned in the arts, been, and passed away to be forgotten, so that no memory of them remains. This is but one of several for Time eats up the works of man.
H. Rider Haggard
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H. Rider Haggard
Age: 68 †
Born: 1856
Born: June 22
Died: 1925
Died: May 14
Novelist
Prosaist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Henry Rider Haggard
Sir Henry Rider Haggard
H. R. Haggard
H Rider Haggard
Men
Works
Time
Memories
Eats
Learned
Passed
Rich
Several
Nations
Arts
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Forgotten
Away
Memory
Art
Remains
More quotes by H. Rider Haggard
The law of England is much more severe upon offences against property than against the person, as becomes a people whose ruling passion is money.
H. Rider Haggard
It is curious to look back and realize upon what trivial and apparently coincidental circumstances great events frequently turn as easily and naturally as a door on its hinges.
H. Rider Haggard
Mistrust all men, and slay him whom thou mistrustest overmuch and as for women, flee from them, for they are evil, and in the end will destroy thee.
H. Rider Haggard
And now let us love and take that which is given us, and be happy for in the grave there is no love and no warmth, nor any touching of the lips. Nothing perchance, or perchance but bitter memories of what might have been.
H. Rider Haggard
Wealth is good, and if it comes our way we will take it but a gentleman does not sell himself for wealth.
H. Rider Haggard
We run to place and power over the dead bodies of those who fail and fall ay, we win the food we eat from out the mouths of starving babes.
H. Rider Haggard
Passion is like the lightning, it is beautiful, and it links the earth to heaven, but alas it blinds!
H. Rider Haggard
As for the girl, since she is well favoured, she shall brew the king's beer, and be numbered amongst the king's wives-unless, indeed, he is pleased to give her to me.
H. Rider Haggard
It is awkward to listen to oneself being praised, and I was always a shy man.
H. Rider Haggard
That which is alive hath known death, and that which is dead can never die, for in the Circle of the Spirit life is naught and death is naught. Yea, all things live forever, though at times they sleep and are forgotten.
H. Rider Haggard
Strange are the pictures of the future that mankind can thus draw with this brush of faith and these many-coloured pigments of the imagination! Strange, too, that no one of them tallies with another!
H. Rider Haggard
I am not a nervous man in a general way, and very little troubled with superstitions, of which I have lived to see the folly.
H. Rider Haggard
So they crucified their Messiah? Well can I believe it. That He was a Son of the Living Spirit would be naught to them, if indeed He was so.... They would care little for any God if he came not with pomp and power.
H. Rider Haggard
The sky aft was dark as pitch, but the moon still shone brightly ahead of us and lit up the blackness. Beneath its sheen a huge white-topped breaker, twenty feet high or more, was rushing on to us. It was on the break-the moon shone on its crest and tipped its foam with light. On it rushed beneath the inky sky, driven by the awful squall behind it.
H. Rider Haggard
Women love the last blow as well as the last word, and when they fight for love they are pitiless as a wounded buffalo.
H. Rider Haggard
It is a hard thing when one has shot sixty-five lions or more, as I have in the course of my life, that the sixty-sixth should chew your leg like a quid of tobacco. It breaks the routine of the thing, and putting other considerations aside, I am an orderly man and don't like that. This is by the way.
H. Rider Haggard
Truly the universe is full of ghosts, not sheeted churchyard spectres, but the inextinguishable elements of individual life, which having once been, can never die, though they blend and change, and change again for ever.
H. Rider Haggard
The food that memory gives to eat is bitter to the taste, and it is only with the teeth of hope that we can bear to bite it.
H. Rider Haggard
Ah! how little knowledge does a man acquire in his life. He gathers it up like water, but like water it runs between his fingers, and yet, if his hands be but wet as though with dew, behold a generation of fools call out, 'See, he is a wise man!' Is it not so?
H. Rider Haggard
Yea, all things live forever, though at times they sleep and are forgotten.
H. Rider Haggard
