O. Henry Quotes

Whenever a man boasts much about [his common sense], you may be pretty sure that he has very little sense, either common or uncommon.

If you go back to the roots of jazz, it was all about COLLECTIVE improvisation.

There is no holier spot of ground than where defeated valor lies by mourning beauty crowned

Andrade [who was looking after wartime inventions] is like an inverted Micawber, waiting for something to turn down.

Your touch has still its ancient power, No word from You can fruitless fall; Hear, in this solemn evening hour, And in Your mercy heal us all.

Like water spilt upon the ground--alas, Our little lives flow swiftly on and pass; Yet may they bring rich harvests and green grass!

The Bible does not profess to make men omniscient, but simply to tell them enough to make them happy and good, if they will believe it and live up to it.

In warlike pomp, with banners flowing, The regiments of autumn stood: I saw their gold and scarlet glowing From every hillside, every wood.

A peaceful man must fight For that which peace demands,— Freedom and faith, honor and right, Defend with heart and hands.

A flawless cup: how delicate and fine The flowing curve of every jewelled line! Look, turn it up or down, 'tis perfect still-- But holds no drop of life's heart-warming wine.

Fidelity is simply daring to be true in small things as well as great.

The worlds in which we live at heart are one, The world "I am," the fruit of "I have done"; And underneath these worlds of flower and fruit, The world "I love,"--the only living root.

If all the world were music, Our hearts would often long For one sweet strain of silence. To break the endless song.

How fascinating is death, the extinction of life. One moment here and the next gone. The light put out and only the empty bag of the body left.

What is Friendship? Something deep That the heart can spend and keep: Wealth that greatens while we give, Praise that heartens us to live.

A little while the rose, And after that the thorn; An hour of dewy morn, And then the glamour goes. Ah, love in beauty born, A little while the rose!

Some men a forward motion love, But I by backward steps would move, And when this dust falls to the urn In that state I came, return.

For each inclosed spirit is a star Enlightening his own little sphere

As great a store Have we of books as bees of herbs or more.

Early, as well as late, Rise with the sun, and set in the same bowers

Some syllables are swords.

I played with fire, did counsel spurn, Made life my common stake; But never thought that fire would burn, O that a soul could ache.

Still young and fine! but what is still in view We slight as old and soil'd, though fresh and new.

If thou canst but thither, There grows the flower of Peace, The Rose that cannot wither, Thy fortress and thy ease.

Poverty is such a relative thing; but no man is really poor till life becomes a desert island that gives him neither food nor shelter nor hope.

We like to test things... no matter how good an idea sounds, test it first.

Governments must now take a leading role in moving their nations in the right direction.

In youth all doors open outward; in old age all open inward.

I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls The burial-ground God's-Acre! It is just; It consecrates each grave within its walls, And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust.

Learn to labour and to wait.

Listen my children and you shall hear, Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere

And when she was good she was very very good. But when she was bad she was horrid.

Then stars arise, and the night is holy.

Every great poem is in itself limited by necessity, but in its suggestions unlimited and infinite.

Time, like a preacher in the days of the Puritans, turned the hour-glass on his high pulpit, the church belfry.

Think not because no man sees, such things will remain unseen.

Life like an empty dream flits by.

But the great Master said, "I see No best in kind, but in degree; I gave a various gift to each, To charm, to strengthen, and to teach".

No endeavour is in vain; Its reward is in the doing.

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.

The heaven of poetry and romance still lies around us and within us.

O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river Linger to kiss thy feet! O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever The world more fair and sweet.

The trees are white with dust, that o'er their sleep Wave their broad curtains in the south-wind's breath, While underneath such leafy tents they keep The long, mysterious Exodus of Death.

A town that boasts inhabitants like me Can have no lack of good society.

But ah! what once has been shall be no more! The groaning earth in travail and in pain Brings forth its races, but does not restore, And the dead nations never rise again.

If the great Captain of Plymouth is so very eager to wed me, Why does he not come himself, and take the trouble to woo me? If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning!

Big words do not smite like war-clubs, Boastful breath is not a bow-string, Taunts are not so sharp as arrows, Deeds are better things than words are, Actions mightier than boastings.

Thinking the deed, and not the creed, Would help us in our utmost need.

There's nothing fair nor beautiful, but takes Something from thee, that makes it beautiful.

Often times we call a man [or woman] cold when he [or she] is only sad.