Art is the child of Nature; yes, her darling child, in whom we trace the features of the mother's face, her aspect and her attitude.
Quote by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In this world a man must either be anvil or hammer.
If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each...
Art is long, and Time is fleeting
The holiest of all holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart; the...
It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to...
We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by...
Love gives itself; it is not bought
Man is always more than he can know of himself; consequently, his accomplishments, time and...
A torn jacket is soon mended; but hard words bruise the heart of a child.
Age is opportunity no less than youth itself.
Since wars begin in the minds of men, it is in the minds of men...
Joy, temperance, and repose, slam the door on the doctor's nose.
Next to being a great poet, is the power of understanding one
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited...
The love of learning, the sequestered nooks, And all the sweet serenity of books.
Archly the maiden smiled, with eyes overrunning with laughter, Said, in a tremulous voice, 'Why...
Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the...
Art is the child of Nature; yes, her darling child, in whom we trace the...
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.
Thy fate is the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall.