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One gets, sensitive about losing mornings after getting a little used to them with living in a country. Each one of these endlessly varied daybreaks is an opera but once performed.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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Nathaniel Parker Willis
Age: 61 †
Born: 1806
Born: January 20
Died: 1867
Died: January 20
Author
Journalist
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Portland
Maine
Nathanael Parker Willis
Living
Endlessly
Used
Performed
Littles
Opera
Little
Sensitive
Country
Losing
Gets
Daybreak
Morning
Mornings
Getting
Varied
More quotes by Nathaniel Parker Willis
I knelt, and with the fervor of a lip unused to the cool breath of reason, told my love.
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The night is made for tenderness,--so still that the low whisper, scarcely audible, is heard like music,--and so deeply pure that the fond thought is chastened as it springs and on the lip made holy.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
The lily and the rose in her fair face striving for precedence.
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One lamp — thy mother’s love — amid the stars Shall lift its pure flame changeless, and before The throne of God, burn through eternity - Holy — as it was lit and lent thee here.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
Of dead kingdoms I recall the soul, sitting amid their ruins
Nathaniel Parker Willis
Some noble spirits mistake despair for content.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
How beautiful it is for a man to die Upon the walls of Zion! to be called Like a watch-worn and weary sentinel, To put his armour off, and rest in heaven!
Nathaniel Parker Willis
There is no divining-rod whose dip shall tell us at twenty what we shall most relish at thirty.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
Nature has thrown a veil of modest beauty over maidenhood and moss-roses.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
A lamp is lit in woman's eye that souls, else lost on earth, remember angels by.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
Ah me! the world is full of meetings such as this,--a thrill, a voiceless challenge and reply, and sudden partings after!
Nathaniel Parker Willis
If e'er I win a parting token, 'Tis something that has lost its power-- A chain that has been used and broken, A ruin'd glove, a faded flower Something that makes my pleasure less, Something that means--forgetfulness.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
It is the month of June, The month of leaves and roses, When pleasant sights salute the eyes, And pleasant scents the noses.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
T is the work of many a dark hour, many a prayer, to bring the heart back from an infant gone.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
I'm weary of my lonely but And of its blasted tree, The very lake is like my lot, So silent constantly-- I've liv'd amid the forest gloom Until I almost fear-- When will the thrilling voices come My spirit thirsts to hear?
Nathaniel Parker Willis
Your love in a cottage is hungry, Your vine is a nest for flies- Your milkmaid shocks the Graces, And simplicity talks of pies! You lie down to your shady slumber And wake with a bug in your ear, And your damsel that walks in the morning Is shod like a mountaineer.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
Vulgarity is more obvious in satin than in homespun.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
Blessed are the joymakers.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
Gentleness is the great point to be obtained in the study of manners.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
How like a mounting devil in the heart rules the unreined ambition.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
