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I hazard the guess that man will be ultimately known for a mere polity of multifarious, incongruous, and independent denizens.

Robert Louis Stevenson

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Robert Louis Stevenson
Age: 44 †
Born: 1850
Born: November 13
Died: 1894
Died: December 3
Essayist
Novelist
Poet
Short Story Writer
Songwriter
Writer
Edinburgh
Scotland
Robert Lewis Balfour Stevenson
Robert Luis Stivensoni
Shih-ti-wen-sheng
Stivenson
Robert Loui Sitivensin
Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson
Robert Lui Stivenson
RL Stivenson
RL Stevenson
RLS
Guess
Denizens
Independent
Multifarious
Mere
Polity
Mankind
Incongruous
Known
Hazard
Men
Hazards
Humankind
Ultimately

More quotes by Robert Louis Stevenson

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My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by For every night at tea-time and before you take your seat, With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.
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Nobody speaks of a beautifful view for 5 minutes
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And if a man reads very hard, as the old anecdote reminds us, he will have little time for thought.
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To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.
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A little amateur painting in water colors shows the innocent and the quiet mind.
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His past was fairly blameless few men could read the rolls of their life with less apprehension yet he was humbled to the dust by the many ill things he had done, and raised up again into sober and fearful gratitude by the many he had come so near to doing, yet avoided.
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I wish these flies would piss off.
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It is almost as if the millennium were arrived, when we shall throw our clocks and watches over the housetop, and remember time and seasons no more. Not to keep hours for a lifetime is... to live forever.
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my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.
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Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door Smiling, he greets us, on that tranquil shore Where neither piping bird nor peeping dawn Disturbs the eternal sleep, But in the stillness far withdrawn Our dreamless rest for evermore we keep.
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He who sows hurry reaps indigestion.
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...those little people, my brownies, who do one half of my work for me while I am fast asleep, and in all human likelihood do the rest for me as well, when I am wide awake and fondly suppose I do for myself.
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There is indeed one element in human destiny that not blindness itself can controvert: whatever else we are intended to do, we are not intended to succeed failure is the fate allotted. It is so in every art and study it is so above all in the continent art of living well.
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To miss the joy is to miss everything.
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Man is a creature who lives not upon bread alone, but primarily by catchwords.
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There are, indeed, few merrier spectacles than that of many windmills bickering together in a fresh breeze over a woody country their halting alacrity of movement, their pleasant business, making bread all day with uncouth gesticulation their air, gigantically human, as of a creature half alive, put a spirit of romance into the tamest landscape.
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Of what shall we be proud of if we are not proud of our friends?
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Our business in life is not to succeed, but to continue to fail in good spirits.
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To love playthings well as a child, to lead an adventurous and honorable youth, and to settle when the time arrives, into a green and smiling age, is to be a good artis en life and deserve well of yourself and your neighbor.
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The seeming significance of nature's appearances, their unchanging strangeness to the senses, and the thrilling response which they awaken in the mind of man . . . If we could only write near enough to the facts, and yet with no pedestrian calm, but ardently, we might transfer the glamour of reality direct upon our pages.
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