Quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier

John Greenleaf Whittier

American poet and writer

Alive from: 1807-1892

Category: Poets (Contemporary) | Writers (Contemporary)

Quotes 1 till 15 of 16.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  Beauty seen is never lost, God's colors all are fast.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  Clothe with life the weak intent, let me be the thing I meant.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  Give fools their gold, and knaves their power; let fortune's bubbles rise and fall; who sows a field, or trains a flower, or plants a tree, is more than all.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  Here Greek and Roman find themselves alive along these crowded shelves; and Shakespeare treads again his stage, and Chaucer paints anew his age.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  How dwarfed against his manliness she sees the poor pretension, the wants, the aims, the follies, born of fashion and convention!

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  O Time and change! With hair as gray as was my sire's that winter day, how strange it seems, with so much gone of life and love, to still live on!

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  Of all that Orient lands can vaunt, of marvels with our own competing, the strangest is the Haschish plant, and what will follow on its eating.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  Oh, for boyhood's painless play, sleep that wakes in laughing day, health that mocks the doctor's rules, knowledge never learned of schools.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  On leaf of palm, on sedge-wrought roll; on plastic clay and leather scroll, man wrote his thoughts; the ages passed, and lo! the Press was found at last!

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  One brave deed makes no hero.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  Peace hath higher tests of manhood than battle ever knew.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  Speak out in acts; the time for words has passed, and only deeds will suffice.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  The dreariest spot in all the land to Death they set apart; with scanty grace from Nature's hand, and none from that of Art.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, that all of thee we loved and cherished has with thy summer roses perished; and left, as its young beauty fled, an ashen memory in its stead.

• John Greenleaf Whittier

  

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  Through this broad street, restless ever, ebbs and flows a human tide, wave on wave a living river; wealth and fashion side by side; Toiler, idler, slave and master, in the same quick current glide.