James Russell Lowell Quotes
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Darkness is strong, and so is Sin,But surely God endures forever.
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Our Pilgrim stock wuz pithed with hardihood.
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I have always been of the mind that in a democracy manners are the only effective weapons against the bowie-knife.
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They are slaves who fear to speakFor the fallen and the weak;They are slaves who will not chooseHatred, scoffing, and abuse,Rather than in silence shrinkFrom the truth they needs must think;They are slaves who dare not beIn the right with two or three.
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Earth's biggest country 's gut her soul,An' risen up earth's greatest nation.
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Fate loves the fearless.
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I first drew in New England's air, and from her hardy breastSucked in the tyrant-hating milk that will not let me rest.
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Greatly begin. Though thou have time, but for a line, be that sublime. Not failure, but low aim is crime.
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Wut's words to them whose faith an' truthOn war's red techstone rang true metal;Who ventered life an' love an' youthFor the gret prize o' death in battle?
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Solitude is as needful to the imagination as society is wholesome for the character.
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A reading-machine, always wound up and going,He mastered whatever was not worth the knowing.
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Though old the thought and oft expressed,'Tis his at last who says it best.
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What men prize most is a privilege, even if it be that of chief mourner at a funeral.
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All thoughts that mould the age beginDeep down within the primitive soul.
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It is the privilege of genius that life never grows common place, as it does for the rest of us.
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Freedom is the only law which genius knows.
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A weed is no more than a flower in disguise, Which is seen through at once, if love give a man eyes.
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The nurse of full-grown souls is solitude.
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In vain we call old notions fudge,And bend our conscience to our dealing;The Ten Commandments will not budge,And stealing will continue stealing.
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Democracy gives every man the right to be his own oppressor.
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Sincerity is impossible, unless it pervade the whole being, and the pretence of it saps the very foundation of character.
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Light is the symbol of truth.
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The question of common sense is always 'What is it good for?'—a question which would abolish the rose and be answered triumphantly by the cabbage.
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The greatest homage we can pay to truth, is to use it.