Samuel Rogers Quotes

I lived to write, and wrote to live.

Fireside happiness, to hours of ease Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.

Long on the wave reflected lustres of play.

Kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire, As summer clouds flash forth electric fire.

Women have the understanding of the heart, which is better than that of the head.

Man to the last is but a froward child; So eager for the future, come what may, And to the present so insensible.

A man who attempts to read all the new productions must do as the flea does,--skip.

But the day is spent; And stars are kindling in the firmament, To us how silent--though like ours, perchance, Busy and full of life and circumstance.

When with care we have raised an imaginary treasure of happiness, we find at last that the materials of the structure are frail and perishing, and the foundation itself is laid in the sand.

Paris strikes the vulgar part of us infinitely the most, but to a thinking mind London is incomparably the most delightful subject for contemplation.

I came to the place of my birth and cried: "The friends of my youth, where are they?"--and an echo answered, "Where are they?

And the Sabbath bell, That over wood and wild and mountain dell Wanders so far, chasing all thoughts unholy With sounds most musical, most melancholy.

Feeling hearts--touch them but lightly--pour A thousand melodies unheard before.

Oh! she was good as she was fair. None-none on earth above her! As pure in thought as angels are, To know her was to love her.

Example is a motive of very prevailing force on the actions of men.

That very law which moulds a tear And bids it trickle from its source,- That law preserves the earth a sphere, And guides the planets in their course.

Gentle to others, to himself severe.

Then never less alone than when alone.

To know her was to love her.

Every day a little life, a blank to be inscribed with gentle thoughts.

When a new book is published, read an old one.

To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.

Think nothing done while aught remains to do.

Lull'd in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are link'd by many a hidden chain; Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! Each stamps its image as the other flies!

Sweet memory, wafted by the gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, To view the fairy haunts of long-lost hours, Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.

The soul of music slumbers in the shell Till waked and kindled by the master's spell; And feeling hearts, touch them but rightly, pour A thousand melodies unheard before!

The good are better made by ill, As odours crushed are sweeter still.

Mine be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near.

Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,-not dead, but gone before,- He gathers round him.

A guardian angel o'er his life presiding, Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing.

Sweet Memory! wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail.

It doesn't much signify whom one marries, for one is sure to find next morning that it was someone else.

Ward has no heart, they say, but I deny it: He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it.

Vast and deep the mountain shadows grew.

By many a temple half as old as Time.