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Night's deepest gloom is but a calm that soothes the weary mind: The labored days restoring balm the comfort of mankind.

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
Days
Restoring
Night
Calmness
Mind
Gloom
Weary
Deepest
Calm
Soothes
Comfort
Labored
Mankind
Balm

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Did you ever observe that immoderate laughter always ends in a sigh?
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A dog can have a friend he has affections and character, he can enjoy equally the field and the fireside he dreams, he caresses, he propitiates he offends, and is pardoned he stands by you in adversity he is a good fellow.
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I am persuaded there is no such thing after all as a perfect enjoyment of solitude for the more delicious the solitude the more one wants a companion.
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The same people who can deny others everything are famous for refusing themselves nothing.
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There is no greater mistake in the world than the looking upon every sort of nonsense as want of sense.
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There seems a life in hair, though it be dead.
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An exquisite invention this, Worthy of Love's most honeyed kiss,-- This art of writing billet-doux-- In buds, and odors, and bright hues! In saying all one feels and thinks In clever daffodils and pinks In puns of tulips and in phrases, Charming for their truth, of daisies.
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Great women belong to history and to self-sacrifice, not to the annals of a stage, however dignified.
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Oh for a seat in some poetic nook, Just hid with trees and sparkling with a brook!
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For the qualities of sheer wit and humor, Swift had no superior, ancient or modern.
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An author is like a baker it is for him to make the sweets, and others to buy and enjoy them.
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Christmas is the glorious time of great Too-Much.
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Central depth of purple, Leaves more bright than rose, Who shall tell what brightest thought Out of darkness grows? Who, through what funereal pain, Souls to love and peace attain? - Leigh Hunt (James Henry Leigh Hunt
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Affection, like melancholy, magnifies trifles but the magnifying of the one is like looking through a telescope at heavenly objects that of the other, like enlarging monsters with a microscope.
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The perfection of conversational intercourse is when the breeding of high life is animated by the fervor of genius.
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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.
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O scaly, slippery, wet, swift, staring wights, What is 't ye do? what life lead? eh, dull goggles? How do ye vary your vile days and nights? How pass your Sundays? Are ye still but joggles In ceaseless wash? Still nought but gapes and bites, And drinks, and stares, diversified with boggles.
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If you become a Nun, dear, The bishop Love will be The Cupids every one, dear! Will chant-'We trust in thee!'
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Cats at firesides live luxuriously and are the picture of comfort.
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The two divinest things this world has got,A lovely woman in a rural spot!
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