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It doesn't much signify whom one marries, for one is sure to find next morning that it was someone else.
Samuel Rogers
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Samuel Rogers
Age: 92 †
Born: 1763
Born: July 30
Died: 1855
Died: December 18
Banker
Poet
Writer
Author of an Ode to superstition
S Rogers
Saml Rogers
Doesn
Else
Signify
Someone
Marries
Find
Marriage
Much
Morning
Sure
Funny
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More quotes by Samuel Rogers
Long on the wave reflected lustres of play.
Samuel Rogers
Women have the understanding of the heart, which is better than that of the head.
Samuel Rogers
Example is a motive of very prevailing force on the actions of men.
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Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,-not dead, but gone before,- He gathers round him.
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A man who attempts to read all the new productions must do as the flea does,--skip.
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Then never less alone than when alone.
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When a new book is published, read an old one.
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Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! Each stamps its image as the other flies!
Samuel Rogers
Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green, With magic tints to harmonize the scene. Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke When round the ruins of their ancient oak The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play, And games and carols closed the busy day.
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A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.
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When with care we have raised an imaginary treasure of happiness, we find at last that the materials of the structure are frail and perishing, and the foundation itself is laid in the sand.
Samuel Rogers
Go! you may call it madness, folly You shall not chase my gloom away! There 's such a charm in melancholy I would not if I could be gay.
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Fireside happiness, to hours of ease Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.
Samuel Rogers
To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.
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The soul of music slumbers in the shell Till waked and kindled by the master's spell And feeling hearts, touch them but rightly, pour A thousand melodies unheard before!
Samuel Rogers
Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.
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Think nothing done while aught remains to do.
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Every day a little life, a blank to be inscribed with gentle thoughts.
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The hour arrives, the moment wish'd and fear'd, The child is born by many a pang endear'd And now the mother's ear has caught his cry O grant the cherub to her asking eye! He comes--she clasps him. To her bosom press'd He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest.
Samuel Rogers
By many a temple half as old as Time.
Samuel Rogers
