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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?

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
Lovely
Warm
Inspired
Magic
High
Sisters
Write
Inward
True
Charm
Writing
Enthusiasm

More quotes by Joanna Baillie

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She who only finds her self-esteem In others' admiration, begs an alms Depends on others for her daily food, And is the very servant of her slaves Tho' oftentimes, in a fantastic hour, O'er men she may a childish pow'r exert, Which not ennobles but degrades her state.
Joanna Baillie
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But woman's grief is like a summer storm, Short as it violent is.
Joanna Baillie
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A willing heart adds feather to the heel.
Joanna Baillie
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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.
Joanna Baillie
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Busy work brings after ease Ease brings sport and sport brings rest For young and old, of all degrees, The mingled lot is best.
Joanna Baillie
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The bliss even of a moment still is bliss.
Joanna Baillie
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A good man's prayers will from the deepest dungeon climb heaven's height, and bring a blessing down.
Joanna Baillie
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It is so seldom that a young fellow has any inclination for the company of an old man. . .
Joanna Baillie
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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.
Joanna Baillie
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Heaven often smites in mercy, even when the blow is severest.
Joanna Baillie
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Men's actions to futurity appear but as the events to which they are conjoined do give them consequence.
Joanna Baillie
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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.
Joanna Baillie
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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.
Joanna Baillie
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My day is closed! the gloom of night is come! a hopeless darkness settles over my fate.
Joanna Baillie
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Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world But those who slide along the grassy sod, And sting the luckless foot that presses them? There are who in the path of social life Do bask their spotted skins in Fortune's sun, And sting the soul.
Joanna Baillie
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The plainest case in many words entangling.
Joanna Baillie
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I wish I were with some of the wild people that run in the woods, and know nothing about accomplishments!
Joanna Baillie
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Time never bears such moments on his wing as when he flies too swiftly to be marked.
Joanna Baillie
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The inward sighs of humble penitence Rise to the ear of Heaven, when peal'd hymns Are scatter'd with the sounds of common air.
Joanna Baillie
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But dreams full oft are found of real events The form and shadows.
Joanna Baillie