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O jealousy, Thou ugliest fiend of hell! thy deadly venom Preys on my vitals, turns the healthful hue Of my flesh check to haggard sallowness, And drinks my spirit up!
Hannah More
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Hannah More
Age: 88 †
Born: 1745
Born: February 2
Died: 1833
Died: September 7
Abolitionist
Essayist
Philanthropist
Playwright
Poet
Tragedy Writer
Writer
Will Chip
Checks
Venom
Thou
Hue
Flesh
Drinks
Vitals
Drink
Deadly
Preys
Hell
Prey
Fiend
Turns
Jealousy
Healthful
Spirit
Jealous
Ugliest
Check
Haggard
More quotes by Hannah More
the uncandid censurer always picks out the worst man of a class, and then confidently produces him as being a fair specimen of it.
Hannah More
Affliction is the school in which great virtues are acquired, in which great characters are formed.
Hannah More
Everything which relates to God is infinite. We must therefore, while we keep our hearts humble, keep our aims high. Our highest services are indeed but finite, imperfect. But as God is unlimited in goodness, He should have our unlimited love.
Hannah More
A slowness to applaud betrays a cold temper or an envious spirit.
Hannah More
the modes of speech are scarcely more variable than the modes of silence.
Hannah More
What ascends up in prayer descends to us again in blessings. It is like the rain which just now fell, and which had been drawn up from the ground in vapors to the clouds before it descended from them to the earth in that refreshing shower.
Hannah More
The keen spirit seizes the prompt occasion.
Hannah More
eternity is a depth which no geometry can measure, no arithmetic calculate, no imagination conceive, no rhetoric describe.
Hannah More
There are only two bad things in this world, sin and bile.
Hannah More
People talk as if the act of death made a complete change in the nature, as well as in the condition of man. Death is the vehicle to another state of being, but possesses no power to qualify us for that state. In conveying us to a new world it does not give us a new heart.
Hannah More
The soul on earth is an immortal guest, Compelled to starve at an unreal feast: A spark, which upward tends by nature's force: A stream diverted from its parent source A drop dissever'd from the boundless sea A moment, parted from eternity A pilgrim panting for the rest to come An exile, anxious for his native home.
Hannah More
Long habit so reconciles us to almost any thing, that the grossest improprieties cease to strike us when they once make a part of the common course of action.
Hannah More
A crown! what is it? It is to bear the miseries of a people! To hear their murmurs, feel their discontents, And sink beneath a load of splendid care!
Hannah More
To be good and disagreeable is high treason against the royalty of virtue.
Hannah More
Imagination frames events unknown, In wild, fantastic shapes of hideous ruin, And what it fears creates.
Hannah More
Luxury! more perilous to youth than storms or quicksand, poverty or chains.
Hannah More
The artful injury, whose venomed dart scarce wounds the hearing, while it stabs the heart.
Hannah More
If we commit any crime, or do any good here, it must be in thought for our words are few and our deeds none at all.
Hannah More
Glory darts her soul-pervading ray on thrones and cottages, regardless still of all the artificial nice distinctions vain human customs make.
Hannah More
Repentance is not completed by a single act, it must be incorporated into our mind, till it become a fixed state, arising from a continual sense of our need of it.
Hannah More