Joanna Baillie Quotations

He was not all a father's heart could wish;/ But oh, he was my son! my only son.

O! who shall lightly say that fame/ is nothing but an empty name?

What custom hath endeared We part with sadly, though we prize it not

He that will not give some portion of his ease, his blood, his wealth, for others' good, is a poor, frozen churl

A good man's prayers will from the deepest dungeon climb heaven's height, and bring a blessing down.

He that will not give some portion of his ease, his blood, his wealth, for other's good, is a poor, frozen churl.

Words of affection, howsoe'er expressed, The latest spoken still are deem'd the best.

Busy work brings after ease; Ease brings sport and sport brings rest; For young and old, of all degrees, The mingled lot is best.

Good-morrow to thy sable beak, And glossy plumage, dark and sleek, Thy crimson moon and azure eye

This will be triumph! This will be happiness! Yea, that very thing, happiness, which I have been pursuing all my life, and have never yet overtaken.

Still on it creeps, Each little moment at another's heels, Till hours, days, years, and ages are made up Of such small parts as these, and men look back Worn and bewilder'd, wondering how it is.

To make the cunning artless, tame the rude, subdue the haughty, shake the undaunted soul; yea, put a bridle in the lion's mouth, and lead him forth as a domestic cur,--these are the triumphs of all-powerful beauty.

She who only finds her self-esteem In others' admiration, begs an alms; Depends on others for her daily food, And is the very servant of her slaves; Tho' oftentimes, in a fantastic hour, O'er men she may a childish pow'r exert, Which not ennobles but degrades her state.

My day is closed! the gloom of night is come! a hopeless darkness settles over my fate.

But woman's grief is like a summer storm, Short as it violent is.

The strength of man sinks in the hour of trial; but there doth live a Power that to the battle girdeth the weak.

The tyrant now Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber The watch-dog guards his couch, the only friend He now dare trust.

The bliss even of a moment still is bliss.

To struggle when hope is banished! To live when life's salt is gone! To dwell in a dream that's vanished! To endure, and go calmly on! The brave man is not he who feels no fear, For that were stupid and irrational; But he, whose noble soul its fear subdues, And bravely dares the danger nature shrinks from.

Oh swiftly glides the bonnie boat, Just parted from the shore, And to the fisher's chorus-note Soft moves the dipping oar.

Heaven often smites in mercy, even when the blow is severest.

Pampered vanity is a better thing perhaps than starved pride.

I wish I were with some of the wild people that run in the woods, and know nothing about accomplishments!

Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world But those who slide along the grassy sod, And sting the luckless foot that presses them? There are who in the path of social life Do bask their spotted skins in Fortune's sun, And sting the soul.

O lovely Sisters! is it true That they are all inspired by you, And write by inward magic charm'd, And high enthusiasm warm'd?

The inward sighs of humble penitence Rise to the ear of Heaven, when peal'd hymns Are scatter'd with the sounds of common air.

But dreams full oft are found of real events The form and shadows.

Sweet sleep be with us, one and all! And if upon its stillness fall The visions of a busy brain, We'll have our pleasure o'er again, To warm the heart, to charm the sight, Gay dreams to all! good night, good night.

O mysterious Night! thou art not silent; many tongues halt thou.

I can bear scorpion's stings, tread fields of fire, in frozen gulfs of cold eternal lie, be tossed aloft through tracts of endless void, but cannot live in shame.

Stand there, damn'd meddling villain, and be silent; For if thou utt'rest but a single word, A cough or hem, to cross me in my speech, I'll send thy cursed spirit from the earth, To bellow with the damn'd!

Time never bears such moments on his wing as when he flies too swiftly to be marked.

War is honorable In those who do their native rights maintain; In those whose swords an iron barrier are Between the lawless spoiler and the weak; But is, in those who draw th' offensive blade For added power or gain, sordid and despicable As meanest office of the worldly churl.

Me care for te laws when te laws care for me.

Pride is a fault that great men blush not to own: it is the ennobled offspring of self-love; though, it must be confessed, grave and pompous vanity, Iike a fat plebeian in a rove of office, does very often assume its name.

It is so seldom that a young fellow has any inclination for the company of an old man. . .

There is a sight all hearts beguiling-- A youthful mother to her infant smiling, Who with spread arms and dancing feet, A cooing voice, returns its answer sweet.

The mind doth shape itself to its own wants, and can bear all things.

I am as one Who doth attempt some lofty mountain's height, And having gained what to the upcast eye The summit's point appear'd, astonished sees Its cloudy top, majestic and enlarged, Towering aloft, as distant as before.

Tis ever thus when favours are denied; All had been granted but the thing we beg: And still some great unlikely substitute-- Your life, your soul, your all of earthly good-- Is proffer'd, in the room of one small boon.

It ever is the marked propensity of restless and aspiring minds to look into the stretch of dark futurity.

The plainest case in many words entangling.

Half-uttered praise is to the curious mind, as to the eye half-veiled beauty is, more precious than the whole.

Men's actions to futurity appear but as the events to which they are conjoined do give them consequence.

Ah! happy is the man whose early lot Hath made him master of a furnish'd cot; Who trains the vine that round his window grows, And after setting sun his garden hoes; Whose wattled pails his own enclosure shield, Who toils not daily in another's field.

If my heart were not light, I would die.

I believe this earth on which we stand is but the vestibule to glorious mansions through which a moving crowd forever press.

A woman is seldom roused to great and courageous exertion but when something most dear to her is in immediate danger.

Tis ever thus: indulgence spoils the base; Raising up pride, and lawless turbulence, Like noxious vapors from the fulsome marsh When morning shines upon it.

I have seen the day, when, if a man made himself ridiculous, the world would laugh at him. But now, everything that is mean, disgusting, and absurd, pleases them but so much the better!

A willing heart adds feather to the heel.