Death! Strange that there should be such a word, and such a thing, and we ever forget it; that one should be living, warm and beautiful, full of hopes, desires and wants, one day, and the next be gone, utterly gone, and forever!
For how imperiously, how coolly, in disregard of all one's feelings, does the hard, cold, uninteresting course of daily realities move on! Still we must eat, and drink, and sleep, and wake again, - still bargain, buy, sell, ask and answer questions, - pursue, in short, a thousand shadows, though all interest in them be over; the cold, mechanical habit of living remaining, after all vital interest in it has fled.
For, so inconsistent is human nature, especially in the ideal, that not to undertake a thing at all seems better than to undertake and come short.
His conversation was in free and easy defiance of Murray's Grammar, and was garnished at convenient intervals with various profane expressions, which not even the desire to be graphic in our account shall induce us to transcribe.
I make no manner of doubt that you threw a very diamond of truth at me, though you see it hit me so directly in the face that it wasn't exactly appreciated, at first.
Religion! Is what you hear at church religion? Is that which can bend and turn, and descend and ascend, to fit every crooked phase of selfish, worldly society, religion? Is that religion which is less scrupulous, less generous, less just, less considerate for man, than even my own ungodly, worldly, blinded nature? No! When I look for religion, I must look for something above me, and not something beneath.
Scenes of blood and cruelty are shocking to our ear and heart. What man has nerve to do, man has not nerve to hear.
Strange, what brings these past things so vividly back to us, sometimes!
Talk of the abuses of slavery! Humbug! The thing itself is the essence of all abuse!
That's right; put on the steam, fasten down the escape-valve, and sit on it, and see there you'll land.
The longest way must have its close - the gloomiest night will wear on to a morning.
There are in this world blessed souls, whose sorrows all spring up into joys for others; whose earthly hopes, laid in the grave with many tears, are the seed from which spring healing flowers and balm for the desolate and the distressed.
What is it that sometimes speaks in the soul so calmly, so clearly, that its earthly time is short? Is it the secret instinct of decaying nature, or the soul's impulsive throb, as immortality draws on? Be what it may, it rested in the heart of Eva, a calm, sweet, prophetic certainty that Heaven was near; calm as the light of sunset, sweet as the bright stillness of autumn, there her little heart reposed, only troubled by sorrow for those who loved her so dearly.
Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted.
But it is often those who have least of all in this life whom He chooseth for the kingdom. Put thy trust in Him and no matter what befalls thee here, He will make all right hereafter.
But, of old, there was One whose suffering changed an instrument of torture, degradation and shame, into a symbol of glory, honor, and immortal life; and, where His spirit is, neither degrading stripes, nor blood, nor insults, can make the Christian's last struggle less than glorious.
Never give up, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn.
When winds are raging oer the upper ocean And billows wild contend with angry roar, T is said, far down beneath the wild commotion That peaceful stillness reigneth evermore. Far, far beneath, the noise of tempests dieth And silver waves chime ever peacefully, And no rude storm, how fierce soeer it flyeth Disturbs the Sabbath of that deeper sea.
Most mothers are instinctive philosophers.
Is wicked I is. Is mighty wicked anyhow I cant help it.
It's a matter of taking the side of the weak against the strong, something the best people have always done.
A man builds a house in England with the expectation of living in it and leaving it to his children; we shed our houses in America as easily as a snail does his shell.
The obstinacy of cleverness and reason is nothing to the obstinacy of folly and inanity.
Any mind that is capable of real sorrow is capable of good.
In all ranks of life the human heart yearns for the beautiful; and the beautiful things that God makes are his gift to all alike.
It lies around us like a cloud A world we do not see Yet the sweet closing of an eye May bring us there to be.
I spect I growed. Dont think nobody never made me.
Who was your mother Never had none said the child, with another grin. Never had any mother What do you mean Where were you born Never was born Do you know who made you Nobody, as I knows on, said the child, with a short laugh.... I spect I growd.
Perhaps it is impossible for a person who does no good to do no harm.
So much has been said and sung of beautiful young girls, why doesn't somebody wake up to the beauty of old women.
Still, still with Thee when purple morning breaketh, When the bird walketh, and the shadows flee Fairer than morning, lovelier than daylight Dawns the sweet consciousness I am with Thee. Alone with Thee amid the mystic shadows, The solemn hush of nature newly born. Alone with Thee in breathless adoration, In the calm dew and freshness of the morn. When sinks the soul, subdued by toil, to slumber, Its closing eyes look up to Thee in prayer Sweet the repose beneath Thy wings oershading, But sweeter still to wake and find Thee there. So shall it be at last in that bright morning, When the soul walketh and lifes shadows flee. Oh, in that hour, fairer than daylights dawning, Shall rise the glorious thought I am with Thee.
I am speaking now of the highest duty we owe our friends, the noblest, the most sacred -- that of keeping their own nobleness, goodness, pure and incorrupt.
If it were admitted that the great object is to read and enjoy a language, and the stress of the teaching were placed on the few things absolutely essential to this result, . . . all might in their own way arrive there, and rejoice in its flowers . . .
All places where women are excluded tend downward to barbarism; but the moment she is introduced, there come in with her courtesy, cleanliness, sobriety, and order.
One would like to be grand and heroic, if one could; but if not, why try at all? One wants to be very something, very great, very heroic; or if not that, then at least very stylish and very fashionable. It is this everlasting mediocrity that bores me.
To do common things perfectly is far better worth our endeavor than to do uncommon things respectably.
I no more thought of style or literary excellence than the mother who rushes into the street and cries for help to save her children from a burning house, thinks of the teachings of the rhetorician or the elocutionist.
Whipping and abuse are like laudanum: you have to double the dose as the sensibilities decline.
A woman's health is her capital.
Nobody had ever instructed him that a slave-ship, with a procession of expectant sharks in its wake, is a missionary institution, by which closely-packed heathen are brought over to enjoy the light of the Gospel.
Mothers are the most instinctive philosophers.
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.
Everyone confesses that exertion which brings out all the powers of body and mind is the best thing for us; but most people do all they can to get rid of it, and as a general rule nobody does much more than circumstances drive them to do.
A little reflection will enable any person to detect in himself that setness in trifles which is the result of the unwatched instinct of self-will and to establish over himself a jealous guardianship.
The longest day must have its close -- the gloomiest night will wear on to a morning. An eternal, inexorable lapse of moments is ever hurrying the day of the evil to an eternal night, and the night of the just to an eternal day.
Human nature is above all things lazy.
Women are the real architects of society.
When you get into a tight place and everything goes against you, till it seems as though you could not hold on a minute longer, never give up then, for that is just the place and time that the tide will turn. quoted by Og Mandino.
Now, if the principle of toleration were once admitted into classical education --if it were admitted that the great object is to read and enjoy a language, and the stress of the teaching were placed on the few things absolutely essential to this result, if the tortoise were allowed time to creep, and the bird permitted to fly, and the fish to swim, towards the enchanted and divine sources of Helicon --all might in their own way arrive there, and rejoice in its flowers, its beauty, and its coolness.
Where painting is weakest, namely, in the expression of the highest moral and spiritual ideas, there music is sublimely strong.
More Harriet Beecher Stowe Quotations (Based on Topics)
Nature - Mothers - Place - Life - Beauty - Soul - Morning - Woman - Man - Christianity - Light - Education - Good & Evil - Teaching - Philosophy - Stress - Birds - Society & Civilization - Language - View All Harriet Beecher Stowe Quotations
More Harriet Beecher Stowe Quotations (By Book Titles)
- Uncle Tom's Cabin
Og Mandino - Neale Donald Walsch - J. K. Rowling - H. G. Wells - Robert Kiyosaki - Robert Fulghum - Nicholas Sparks - Mary Wollstonecraft Shelle - Lu Yu - James Allen