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When I was a beggarly boy, And lived in a cellar damp, I had not a friend nor a toy, But I had Aladdin's lamp.
James Russell Lowell
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James Russell Lowell
Age: 72 †
Born: 1819
Born: February 22
Died: 1891
Died: August 12
Diplomat
Essayist
Journalist
Literary Critic
Poet
Writer
Cambridge
Massachusetts
Lived
Beggarly
Friend
Aladdin
Boys
Cellar
Friends
Cellars
Damp
Lamp
Lamps
Toys
More quotes by James Russell Lowell
Great truths are portions of the soul of man Great souls are portions of eternity.
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It is not the insurrections of ignorance that are dangerous, but the revolts of the intelligence.
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Democracy gives every man the right to be his own oppressor.
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A wise man travels to discover himself.
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Children are God's Apostles, sent forth, day by day, to preach of love, and hope, and peace.
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Greatly begin. Though thou have time, but for a line, be that sublime. Not failure, but low aim is crime.
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Who's not sat tense before his own heart's curtain.
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Taste is the next gift to genius.
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Love lives on, and hath a power to bless when they who loved are hidden in the grave.
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Solitude is as needful to the imagination as society is wholesome for the character.
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He who keeps his faith only, cannot be discrowned.
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Truth forever on the scaffold, Wrong forever on the throne,- Yet that scaffold sways the Future, and, behind the dim unknown, Standeth God within the shadow, keeping watch above his own.
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The child is not mine as the first was, I cannot sing it to rest, I cannot lift it up fatherly And bliss it upon my breast Yet it lies in my little one's cradle And sits in my little one's chair, And the light of the heaven she's gone to Transfigures its golden hair.
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Once to every man and nation, comes the moment to decide, In the strife of truth with falsehood, for the good or evil side Some great cause, some great decision, offering each the bloom or blight, And the choice goes by forever, ’twixt that darkness and that light.
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The snow had begun in the gloaming, and busily all the night had been heaping field and highway with a silence deep and white.
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The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down, and still fluttered down the snow.
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A sneer is the weapon of the weak. Like other devil's weapons, it is always cunningly ready to our hand, and there is more poison in the handle than in the point.
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The question of common sense is always: 'what is it good for?' - a question which would abolish the rose and be answered triumphantly by the cabbage.
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