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The fish is swift, small-needing, vague yet clear, A cold, sweet, silver life, wrapped in round waves.

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
Sea
Silver
Sweet
Fish
Needing
Cold
Fishes
Swift
Small
Round
Wrapped
Clear
Boat
Waves
Life
Rounds
Vague
Wave
Lakes
Rivers
Fishing

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Stolen sweets are always sweeter, Stolen kisses much completer, Stolen looks are nice in chapels, Stolen, stolen be your apples.
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Beauty too often sacrifices to fashion. The spirit of fashion is not the beautiful, but the wilful not the graceful, but the fantastic not the superior in the abstract, but the superior in the worst of all concretes,-the vulgar.
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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.
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Cats at firesides live luxuriously and are the picture of comfort.
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Your second-hand bookseller is second to none in the worth of the treasures he dispenses.
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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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Night's deepest gloom is but a calm that soothes the weary mind: The labored days restoring balm the comfort of mankind.
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This garden has a soul, I know its moods.
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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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Where the mouth is sweet and the eyes intelligent, there is always the look of beauty, with a right heart.
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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.
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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 beautiful attracts the beautiful.
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Traveling in the company of those we love is home in motion.
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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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Patience and gentleness is power.
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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.
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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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There seems a life in hair, though it be dead.
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