Jean Ingelow Quotes
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And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.
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To bear, to nurse, to rear, To watch and then to lose,To see my bright ones disappear, Drawn up like morning dews.
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Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.
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It seemed proper indeed to crowd the pages with children, for in real life they run all over; the world is covered thickly with the prints of their little footsteps, though, as a rule, books written for grown-up people are kept almost clear of them.
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When sparrows build and the leaves break forth, My old sorrow wakes and cries.
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And bitter waxed the fray; Brother with brother spake no word When they met in the way.
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Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.
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I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
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If one cannot have success, the next most agreeable thing is failure.
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How short our happy days appear! How long the sorrowful!
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How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.
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But two are walking apart forever And wave their hands for a mute farewell.
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It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.
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People newly emerged from obscurity generally launch out into indiscriminate display.
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O sleep, we are beholden to thee, sleep; Thou bearest angels to us in the night, Saints out of heaven with palms. Seen by thy light Sorrow is some old tale that goeth not deep; Love is a pouting child.
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The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.
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Work is its own best earthly meed, Else have we none more than the sea-born throng Who wrought those marvelous isles that bloom afar.
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Crowds of bees are giddy with clover Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our feet,Crowds of larks at their matins hang over, Thanking the Lord for a life so sweet.
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From henceforth thou shalt learn that there is love To long for, pureness to desire, a mount Of consecration it were good to scale.
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The red Sahara in an angry glow, / With amber fogs, across its hollows trailed / Long strings of camels, gloomy-eyed and slow ...
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It is a comely fashion to be glad; Joy is the grace we say to God.
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Against her ankles as she trod The lucky buttercups did nod.
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Reign, and keep life in this our deep desire Our only greatness is that we aspire.
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There is nothing so unreasonable as infancy, excepting the maturer stages of life.