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Christmas is the glorious time of great Too-Much.
Leigh Hunt
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Leigh Hunt
Age: 74 †
Born: 1784
Born: October 19
Died: 1859
Died: August 28
Autobiographer
Journalist
Literary Critic
Poet
Translator
Southgate
London
James Henry Leigh Hunt
Glorious
Christmas
Great
Much
Time
More quotes by Leigh Hunt
Improvement is nature.
Leigh Hunt
The person who can be only serious or only cheerful, is but half a man.
Leigh Hunt
Colors are the smiles of Nature. When they are extremely smiling, and break forth into other beauty besides, they are her laughs.
Leigh Hunt
The loveliest hair is nothing, if the wearer is incapable of a grace.
Leigh Hunt
An author is like a baker it is for him to make the sweets, and others to buy and enjoy them.
Leigh Hunt
A pleasure so exquisite as almost to amount to pain.
Leigh Hunt
Occupation is the necessary basis of all enjoyment.
Leigh Hunt
A friend of ours, who is an admirer of Isaac Walton, was struck, just as we were, with the likeness of the old angler's face to a fish.
Leigh Hunt
Stolen kisses are always sweetest.
Leigh Hunt
The same people who can deny others everything are famous for refusing themselves nothing.
Leigh Hunt
Did you ever observe that immoderate laughter always ends in a sigh?
Leigh Hunt
The beautiful attracts the beautiful.
Leigh Hunt
With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks To lie and read in, sloping into brooks.
Leigh Hunt
Night's deepest gloom is but a calm that soothes the weary mind: The labored days restoring balm the comfort of mankind.
Leigh Hunt
Part of our good consists in the endeavor to do sorrows away, and in the power to sustain them when the endeavor fails,--to bear them nobly, and thus help others to bear them as well.
Leigh Hunt
Fishes do not roar they cannot express any sound of suffering and therefore the angler chooses to think they do not suffer, more than it is convenient for him to fancy. Now it is a poor sport that depends for its existence on the want of a voice in the sufferer, and of imagination in the sportsman.
Leigh Hunt
Nature, at all events, humanly speaking, is manifestly very fond of color for she has made nothing without it. Her skies are blue her fields, green her waters vary with her skies her animals, vegetables, minerals, are all colored. She paints a great any of them in apparently superfluous hues, as if to show the dullest eye how she loves color.
Leigh Hunt
Some tears belong to us because we are unfortunate others, because we are humane many, because we are mortal. But most are caused by our being unwise. It is these last only that of necessity produce more.
Leigh Hunt
Those who have lost an infant are never, in a way, without an infant.
Leigh Hunt
If you become a Nun, dear, The bishop Love will be The Cupids every one, dear! Will chant-'We trust in thee!'
Leigh Hunt