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I have seen the day, when, if a man made himself ridiculous, the world would laugh at him. But now, everything that is mean, disgusting, and absurd, pleases them but so much the better!

Joanna Baillie

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Joanna Baillie
Age: 88 †
Born: 1762
Born: September 11
Died: 1851
Died: February 23
Playwright
Poet
Tragedy Writer
Writer
Joanna Baillie
Would
Laughing
Men
Please
World
Seen
Better
Pleases
Everything
Disgusting
Mean
Absurd
Much
Ridiculous
Made
Laugh

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Half-uttered praise is to the curious mind, as to the eye half-veiled beauty is, more precious than the whole.
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The bliss even of a moment still is bliss.
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I am as one Who doth attempt some lofty mountain's height, And having gained what to the upcast eye The summit's point appear'd, astonished sees Its cloudy top, majestic and enlarged, Towering aloft, as distant as before.
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Good-morrow to thy sable beak, And glossy plumage, dark and sleek, Thy crimson moon and azure eye
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O lovely Sisters! is it true That they are all inspired by you, And write by inward magic charm'd, And high enthusiasm warm'd?
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Oh swiftly glides the bonnie boat, Just parted from the shore, And to the fisher's chorus-note Soft moves the dipping oar.
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The plainest case in many words entangling.
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Stand there, damn'd meddling villain, and be silent For if thou utt'rest but a single word, A cough or hem, to cross me in my speech, I'll send thy cursed spirit from the earth, To bellow with the damn'd!
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Men's actions to futurity appear but as the events to which they are conjoined do give them consequence.
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Time never bears such moments on his wing as when he flies too swiftly to be marked.
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Pride is a fault that great men blush not to own: it is the ennobled offspring of self-love though, it must be confessed, grave and pompous vanity, Iike a fat plebeian in a rove of office, does very often assume its name.
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A good man's prayers will from the deepest dungeon climb heaven's height, and bring a blessing down.
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Tis ever thus: indulgence spoils the base Raising up pride, and lawless turbulence, Like noxious vapors from the fulsome marsh When morning shines upon it.
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But dreams full oft are found of real events The form and shadows.
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It is so seldom that a young fellow has any inclination for the company of an old man. . .
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Ah! happy is the man whose early lot Hath made him master of a furnish'd cot Who trains the vine that round his window grows, And after setting sun his garden hoes Whose wattled pails his own enclosure shield, Who toils not daily in another's field.
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A woman is seldom roused to great and courageous exertion but when something most dear to her is in immediate danger.
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Heaven often smites in mercy, even when the blow is severest.
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Still on it creeps, Each little moment at another's heels, Till hours, days, years, and ages are made up Of such small parts as these, and men look back Worn and bewilder'd, wondering how it is.
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A willing heart adds feather to the heel.
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