Quote

The rain is playing its soft pleasant tune fitfully on the skylight, and the shade of the fast-flying clouds across my book passed with delicate change.

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
Fast
Tunes
Rain
Shade
Across
Delicate
Playing
Soft
Change
Passed
Book
Pleasant
Fitfully
Flying
Skylights
Clouds
Tune

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I knelt, and with the fervor of a lip unused to the cool breath of reason, told my love.
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Nature's noblemen are everywhere,--in town and out of town, gloved and rough-handed, rich and poor. Prejudice against a lord, because he is a lord, is losing the chance of finding a good fellow, as much as prejudice against a ploughman because he is a ploughman.
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There is a gentle element, and man may breathe it with a calm, unruffled soul, and drink its living waters, till his heart is pure and this is human happiness.
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Vulgarity is more obvious in satin than in homespun.
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Of dead kingdoms I recall the soul, sitting amid their ruins
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The smallest pebble in the well of truth has its peculiar meaning, and will stand when man's best monuments have passed away.
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The soul of man createth its own destiny.
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The Spring is here--the delicate footed May, With its slight fingers full of leaves and flowers, And with it comes a thirst to be away. In lovelier scenes to pass these sweeter hours.
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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.
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Like Melrose Abbey, large cities should especially be viewed by moonlight.
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Some noble spirits mistake despair for content.
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A lamp is lit in woman's eye that souls, else lost on earth, remember angels by.
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There is no divining-rod whose dip shall tell us at twenty what we shall most relish at thirty.
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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?
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Blessed are the joymakers.
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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
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The taste forever refines in the study of women.
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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
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The sin forgiven by Christ in HeavenBy man is cursed alway.
Nathaniel Parker Willis
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The dust is old upon my sandal-shoon, And still I am a pilgrim I have roved From wild America to Bosphor's waters, And worshipp'd at innumerable shrines Of beauty and the painter's art, to me, And sculpture, speak as with a living tongue, And of dead kingdoms, I recall the soul, Sitting amid their ruins.
Nathaniel Parker Willis