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The heart of silver falls ever into the hands of brass. The sensitive herb is eaten as grass by the swine.
Ouida
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Ouida
Age: 69 †
Born: 1839
Born: January 1
Died: 1908
Died: January 25
Novelist
Writer
Bury St Edmunds
Suffolk
Marie Louise de la Ramée
Marie Louise Ramé
Marie Louise de la Ramee
Marie Louise Rame
Silver
Sensitive
Grass
Herb
Destiny
Swine
Fall
Brass
Hands
Herbs
Ever
Eaten
Heart
Falls
More quotes by Ouida
Fame nowadays is little else but notoriety.
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Opposition to a man in love is like oil to fire.
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Fame! it is the flower of a day, that dies when the next sun rises.
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Christianity has been cruel in much to the human race. It has quenched much of the sweet joy and gladness of life it has caused the natural passions and affections of it to be held as sins.
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Power is sweet, and when you are a little clerk you love its sweetness quite as much as if you were an emperor, and maybe you love it a good deal more.
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Youth without faith is a day without sun.
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Great men always have dogs.
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A just chastisement may benefit a man, though it seldom does but an unjust one changes all his blood to gall.
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Great men have always had dogs.
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To vice, innocence must always seem only a superior kind of chicanery.
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Truth is a rough, honest, helter-skelter terrier that none like to see brought into their drawing rooms.
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Charity in various guises is an intruder the poor see often but courtesy and delicacy are visitants with which they are seldom honored.
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There is a self-evident axiom, that she who is born a beauty is half married.
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One must pray first, but afterwards one must help oneself. God does not care for cowards.
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When passion and habit long lie in company it is only slowly and with incredulity that habit awakens to finds its companion fled, itself alone.
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Charity is a flower not naturally of earthly growth, and it needs manuring with a promise of profit.
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Talent wears well, genius wears itself out talent drives a snug brougham in fact genius, a sun-chariot in fancy.
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The joy of a strong nature is as cloudless as its suffering is desolate.
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Fame has only the span of the day, they say. But to live in the hearts of people-that is worth something.
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Count art by gold, and it fetters the feet it once winged.
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