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So I sit there kicked my heels, thinking about New Orleans, and watching a morbid blue-bottle fly attempt to commit suicide by butting his head against the windowpane.

Thomas Bailey Aldrich

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Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Age: 70 †
Born: 1836
Born: November 2
Died: 1907
Died: March 19
Editor
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
Portsmouth
New Hampshire
Commit
Morbid
Watching
Kicked
Blue
Orleans
Head
Bottle
Thinking
Bottles
Heels
Attempt
Butting
Suicide
Windowpane

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Between the reputation of the author living and the reputation of the same author dead there is ever a wide discrepancy.
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That was indeed to live -- at one bold swoop to wrest from darkling death the best that death to life can give.
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It is only your habitual late riser who takes in the full flavor of Nature at those rare intervals when he gets up to go afishing. He brings virginal emotions and unsatiated eyes to the sparkling freshness of earth and stream and sky.
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I like not lady-slippers, Nor yet the sweet-pea blossoms, Nor yet the flaky roses, Red or white as snow I like the chaliced lilies, The heavy Eastern lilies, The gorgeous tiger-lilies, That in our garden grow.
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The man who suspects his own tediousness is yet to be born.
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The possession of unlimited power will make a despot of almost any man. There is a possible Nero in the gentlest human creature that walks.
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We weep when we are born, Not when we die!
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O Liberty, white Goddess! is it well to leave the gates unguarded? On thy breast fold Sorrow's children, soothe the hurts of Fate, lift the down-trodden, but with hand of steel stay those who to thy sacred portals come to waste the gifts of Freedom.
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Gracious to all, to none subservient, Without offense he spoke the word he meant
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Hebe's here, May is here! The air is fresh and sunny And the miser-bees are busy Hoarding golden honey.
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It is the Lord's Day, and I do believe that cheerful hearts and faces are not unpleasant in His sight.
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When friends are at your hearthside met, Sweet courtesy has done its most If you have made each guest forget That he himself is not the host.
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The fate of the worm refutes the pretended ethical teaching of the proverb, which assumes to illustrate the advantage of early rising and does so by showing how extremely dangerous it is.
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Great orators who are not also great writers become very indistinct shadows to the generations following them. The spell vanishes with the voice.
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My mind lets go a thousand things, Like dates of wars and deaths of kings
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The young girl in my story is to be as sensitive to praise as a prism is to light. Whenever anybody praises her she breaks into colors.
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They fail, and they alone, who have not striven.
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Everyone has a bookplate these days, and the collectors are after it. The fool and his bookplate are soon parted. To distribute one's ex libris is inanely to destroy the only significance it has, that of indicating the past or present ownership of the volume in which it is placed.
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