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It is quite easy for stupid people to be happy they believe in fables, and they trot on in a beaten track like a horse on a tramway.
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
Believe
Beaten
Like
Track
People
Horse
Stupid
Quite
Happiness
Happy
Trot
Easy
Fables
More quotes by Ouida
Dishonor is like the Aaron's Beard in the hedgerows it can only poison if it be plucked.
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We do not want to think. We do not want to hear. We do not care about anything. Only give us a good dinner and plenty of money, and let us outshine our neighbors. There is the Nineteenth Century Gospel.
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for what is the gift of the poet and the artist except to see the sights which others cannot see and to hear the sounds that others cannot hear?
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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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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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Scandals are like dandelion seeds--they are arrow-headed, and stick where they fall, and bring forth and multiply fourfold.
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Genius scorns the power of gold: it is wrong. Gold is the war-scythe on its chariot, which mows down the millions of its foes, and gives free passage to the sun-coursers with which it leaves those heavenly fields of light for the gross battlefields of earth.
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An easy-going husband is the one indispensable comfort of life.
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There is nothing that you may not get people to believe in if you will only tell it them loud enough and often enough, till the welkin rings with it.
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A pipe is a pocket philosopher,--a truer one than Socrates, for it never asks questions. Socrates must have been very tiresome, when one thinks of it.
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Emulation is active virtue envy is brooding malice.
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The fire of true enthusiasm is like the fires of Baku, which no water can ever quench, and which burn steadily on from night to day, and year to year, because their well-spring is eternal.
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A cruel story runs on wheels, and every hand oils the wheels as they run.
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Fancy tortures more people than does reality
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Brussels is a gay little city that lies as bright within its girdle of woodland as any butterfly that rests upon moss.
Ouida
Belief of some sort is the lifeblood of Art.
Ouida
The joy of a strong nature is as cloudless as its suffering is desolate.
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Friendship is such an elastic word. There never was an age when it stood for so many things in private, and was yet so absolutely non-existent in fact.
Ouida
Count art by gold, and it fetters the feet it once winged.
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It is the north wind that lashes men into Vikings it is the soft, luscious south wind which lulls them to lotus dreams.
Ouida