To keep the heart unwrinkled, to be hopeful, kindly, cheerful, reverent that is to triumph over old age.— Thomas Bailey Aldrich
The most devotion Thomas Bailey Aldrich quotes to get the best of your day
All the best sands of my life are somehow getting into the wrong end of the hourglass. If I could only reverse it! Were it in my power to do sowould I?
Books that have become classics - books that have had their day and now get more praise than perusal - always remind me of retired colonels and majors and captains who, having reached the age limit, find themselves retired on half pay.
They fail, and they alone, who have not striven.
What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness, Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air.
Civilization is the lamb's skin in which barbarism masquerades.
True art selects and paraphrases, but seldom gives a verbatim translation.
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.
The fanatic has the courage of his conviction and the intolerance of his courage. He is opposed to the death penalty for murder, but he would willingly have anyone electrocuted who disagreed with him on the subject.
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.
But I, in the chilling twilight stand and wait At the portcullis, at thy castle gate, Longing to see the charmed door of dreams Turn on its noiseless hinges, delicate sleep!
Gracious to all, to none subservient, Without offense he spoke the word he meant.
What probing deep Has ever solved the mystery of sleep?
The ocean moans over dead men's bones.
Shakespeare is forever coming into our affairs -- putting in his oar, so to speak -- with some pat word or sentence.
With the tears a Land hath shed. Their graves should ever be green.
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.
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.
Decoration Day is the most beautiful of our national holidays.
... The grim cannon have turned into palm branches, and the shell and shrapnel into peach blossoms.
We knew it would rain, for the poplars showed The white of their leaves, the amber grain Shrunk in the wind,-and the lightning now Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain.
After a debauch of thunder-shower, the weather takes the pledge and signs it with a rainbow.
What is slang in one age sometimes goes into the vocabulary of the purist in the next.
To keep the heart unwrinkled, to be hopeful, kindly, cheerful, reverent
How fugitive and brief is mortal life between the budding and the falling leaf.
Turn on its noiseless hinges, delicate sleep!
Great thoughts in crude, unshapely verse set forth lose half their preciousness, and ever must, unless the diamond with its own rich dust be cut and polished, it seems little worth.
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.
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.
Hebe's here, May is here! The air is fresh and sunny;
And the miser-bees are busy Hoarding golden honey.
The man who suspects his own tediousness is yet to be born.
October turned my maple's leaves to gold;
The most are gone now; here and there one lingers: Soon these will slip from the twigs' weak hold, Like coins between a dying miser's fingers.
No bird has ever uttered note That was not in some first bird's throat;
Since Eden's freshness and man's fall No rose has been original.
A glance, a word -- and joy or pain befalls.
... How slight the links are in the chain that binds us to our destiny!
It is the Lord's Day, and I do believe that cheerful hearts and faces are not unpleasant in His sight.
Day is a snow-white Dove of heaven That from the East glad message brings.
Night is a stealthy, evil Raven, Wrapped to the eyes in his black wings.
Come watch with me the shaft of fire that glowsIn yonder West: the fair, frail palaces,The fading Alps and archipelagoes,And great cloud-continents of sunset-seas.
Books that have become classics -- books that have had their day and now get more praise than perusal -- always remind me of retired colonels and majors and captains who, having reached the age limit, find themselves retired on half pay.
It were better to be a soldier's widow than a coward's wife.
The ability to have our own way, and at the same time convince others they are having their own way, is a rare thing among men. Among women it is as common as eyebrows.
When to soft Sleep we give ourselves away,And in a dream as in a fairy barkDrift on and on through the enchanted darkTo purple daybreak--little thought we payTo that sweet bitter world we know by day.
We weep when we are born, Not when we die!
I beg you come tonight and dine A welcome waits you and sound wine The Roederer chilly to a charm As Juno's breasts the claret warm.
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.
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.
My father invested his money so securely in the banking business that he was never able to get any of it out again.
My mind lets go a thousand things, Like dates of wars and deaths of kings
O Liberty...! is it well To leave the gates unguarded?
Sorrow itself is not so hard to bear As the thought of sorrow coming.
Airy ghosts, That work no harm, do terrify us more Than men in steel with bloody purposes. Death is not dreadful; 'tis the dread of death— We die whene'er we think of it!
O harp of life, so speedily unstrung!
At the beginning of the twentieth century barbarism can throw off its gentle disguise, and burn a man at the stake as complacently as in the Middle Ages.