Letitia Elizabeth Landon Quotes
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The gallantry of an English peasant rarely expands into words.
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Who does not know the restlessness of an anticipated arrival ?
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'Tis not for Spring to think on allThe sear and waste of Autumn's fall: -
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We talk of unsophisticated nature-I should like to know where it is to be found.
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On this subject any general rule is impossible ; love, like the chamelion, is coloured by the air in which it lives - and the finer the air the richer the colour. Some young ladies have a happy facility of falling in and out of love; their heart, like a raspberry tart, is covered with crosses.
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It is curious to observe how little one period resembles another. Centuries are the children of one mighty family, but here is no family-likeness between them.
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It was no fancy, he had named the nameOf love, and at that thought her cheek grew flame:
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Sound peculiarly appeals to memory.
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'Waverley' was the avater (sic) of a new era ;
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Alas, tears are the poet's heritage!
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I do firmly believe that the Londoner is as contented with his city home as the dweller in the fairest valley among the Appennines ; and that habit brings its usual indifference as to place.
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… ; but conscience, like a child, is soon lulled to sleep ; and habit is our idea of eternity.
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-true love is like religion, it hath its silence and its sanctity.
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There must be some deep-rooted anti-social principle in every man's nature, so dearly does he love aught that separates him from his kind ; or is it but one of the many shapes taken by that mental kaleidoscope, vanity, the varying and the glittering, the desire of distinction, sinking into that of notice?
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It is a humbling thing to human pride to observe that strength of mind does not preserve its possessor from indulging any favourite delusion; but that this very strength gives its own force to the belief.
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Unveil’d, unmask’d ! not so, not so !Ah ! thine are closer wornThan those which, in light mockery,One evening thou hast borne.The mask and veil which thou dost wearAre of thyself a part;No mask can ever hide thy faceAs that conceals thy heart.
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The fearless make their own way.
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From Arrezi
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of Theatres There, while weeping for sorrows which are not, laughing at the light jest or the ludicrous misadventure, how little is remembered of the want which makes fear the only bond that binds the living to life !
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From Castuccio
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I wrote my name upon the sand;I thought I wrote it on thine heart.I had no touch of fear, that words,Such words, so graven, could depart.
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In endeavouring to recall a few memorials of Mrs. Lawrence Burgoyne, I do it on the same principle that scientific men collect the bones of a mammoth - the whole exists no longer ; but there are sufficient remains to show that it did exist.