Letitia Elizabeth Landon Quotes
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The dying chief sprang to his knee,And the staunch'd wounds well'd fearfully;But his gash'd arm, what is it now?Livid his lip, and black his brow,While over him the slayer stood,As if he almost scorn'd the bloodThat cost so little to be won,-He strikes,-the work of death is done!
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There is a favourite in every family; and, generally speaking, that favourite is the most troublesome member in it.
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He fell as other thousands do,Trampled down where they fall,While on a single name is heap'dThe glory gain'd by all.Yet even he whose common graveLies in the open fields,Died not without a thought of allThe joy that glory yields.
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The discharge of a duty from affection is the best solace for sorrow.
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I LOVED her! ay, I would have givenA death-bed certainty of heavenIf I had thought it could conferThe least of happiness on her!
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Alas! that every lovely thingLives only but for withering,-That spring rainbows and summer shineEnd but in autumn's pale decline.
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Good and evil ! good and evil ! ye are mingled inextricably in the web of our being ; and who may unthread the darker yarn ?
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The fearless make their own way.
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AY, screen thy favourite dove, fair child,Ay, screen it if you may,-Yet I misdoubt thy trembling handWill scare the hawk away.
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Oh, she had yet the task to learnHow often woman's heart must turnTo feed upon its own excessOf deep yet passionate tenderness!How much of grief the heart must proveThat yields a sanctuary to love!
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... oh! love will lastWhen all that made it happiness is past,-When all its hopes are as the glittering toysTime present offers, time to come destroys,-
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What a mistake rage is ! anger should never go beyond a sneer, if it really desires revenge.
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I rather disdained than coveted the luxuries I saw : alas ! we desire riches more for others than ourselves.
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Philosophers are moral, and poets are picturesque about the country.
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November's night is dark and drear,The dullest month of all the year.
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We talk of unsophisticated nature-I should like to know where it is to be found.
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Where, oh, where's the chain to fling,One that will chain Cupid's wing-One that will have longer powerThan the April sun or shower?
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-to enjoy yourself is the easy method to give enjoyment to others; …
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How sweet on the breeze of the evening swellsThe vesper call of those soothing bells,Borne softly and dying in echoes away,Like a requiem sung to the parting day.
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-music's powerIs little felt in sunlit hour;But hear its voice when hopes depart,Like swallows, flying from the heartOn which the summer's late declineHas set a sadness and a sign;. . . . . .How deeply will the spirit feelThe lute, the song's sweet-voiced appeal;And how the heart drink in their sighsAs echoes they from Paradise.
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The gallantry of an English peasant rarely expands into words.
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But youth is as a flowing stream, on whose current the shadow may rest but not remain.
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Ill-timed admiration is enough to enrage a saint.
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… who has not experienced, at some time or other, that words had all the relief of tears?