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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
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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
Materials
Frail
Lasts
Imaginary
Happiness
Laid
Last
Sand
Care
Treasure
Find
Structure
Foundation
Perishing
Raised
Frailty
More quotes by Samuel Rogers
It doesn't much signify whom one marries, for one is sure to find next morning that it was someone else.
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A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.
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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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Mine be a cot beside the hill A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near.
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Women have the understanding of the heart, which is better than that of the head.
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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!
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When a new book is published, read an old one.
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I came to the place of my birth and cried: The friends of my youth, where are they?--and an echo answered, Where are they?
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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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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!
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I lived to write, and wrote to live.
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Think nothing done while aught remains to do.
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By many a temple half as old as Time.
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Then never less alone than when alone.
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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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Fireside happiness, to hours of ease Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.
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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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To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.
Samuel Rogers
Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.
Samuel Rogers
Example is a motive of very prevailing force on the actions of men.
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