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Rising genius always shoots forth its rays from among clouds and vapours, but these will gradually roll away and disappear, as it ascends to its steady and meridian lustre.
Washington Irving
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Washington Irving
Age: 76 †
Born: 1783
Born: April 3
Died: 1859
Died: November 28
Author
Biographer
Diplomat
Essayist
Historian
Journalist
Lawyer
Novelist
Playwright
Politician
Writer
New York City
New York
Diedrich Knickerbocker
Geoffrey Crayon
Lauuncelot Langstaff
Away
Lust
Meridian
Always
Roll
Ascends
Rising
Lustre
Forth
Luster
Disappear
Shoots
Clouds
Gradually
Among
Rays
Genius
Steady
Vapours
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The oil and wine of merry meeting.
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A woman is more considerate in affairs of love than a man because love is more the study and business of her life.
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I sometimes think one of the great blessings we shall enjoy in heaven, will be to receive letters by every post and never be obliged to reply to them.
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Marriage is the torment of one, the felicity of two, the strife and enmity of three.
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A woman's whole life is a history of the affections.
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There is in every true woman's heart, a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity, but which kindles up and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.
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A kind heart is a fountain of gladness, making everything in its vicinity freshen into smiles.
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Villainy wears many masks none so dangerous as the mask of virtue.
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There is certain relief in change, even though it be from bad to worse! As I have often found in traveling in a stagecoach, that it is often a comfort to shift one's position, and be bruised in a new place.
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There is a certain artificial polish, a commonplace vivacity acquired by perpetually mingling in the beau monde which, in the commerce of world, supplies the place of natural suavity and good-humour, but is purchased at the expense of all original and sterling traits of character.
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The Indians with surprise found the mouldering trees of their forests suddenly teeming with ambrosial sweet and nothing, I am told, can exceed the greedy relish with which they banquet for the first time upon this unbought luxury of the wilderness.
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The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced.
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Sometimes the table was graced with immense apple-pies, or saucers full of preserved peaches and pears but it was always sure to boast an enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough, fried in hog's fat, and called doughnuts, or olykoeks - a delicious kind of cake, at present scarce known in this city, except in genuine Dutch families.
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Christmas is a season for kindling the fire for hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart.
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The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal - every other affliction to forget: but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open - this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude.
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The tie which links mother and child is of such pure and immaculate strength as to be never violated.
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The youthful freshness of a blameless heart.
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The paternal hearth, the rallying-place of the affections.
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The scholar only knows how dear these silent, yet eloquent, companions of pure thoughts and innocent hours become in the season of adversity. When all that is worldly turns to dross around us, these only retain their steady value.
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The dullest observer must be sensible of the order and serenity prevalent in those households where the occasional exercise of a beautiful form of worship in the morning gives, as it were, the keynote to every temper for the day, and attunes every spirit to harmony.
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