To be really great in little things, to be truly noble and heroic in the insipid details of everyday life, is a virtue so rare as to be worthy of canonization.
Harriet Beecher StoweRead
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!
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote reflects on the perplexing nature of mortality and how easily we can overlook the inevitability of death.
Harriet Beecher Stowe's quote delves into the strange reality of life and death, highlighting the contrast between our vibrant existence filled with aspirations and the suddenness with which life can be extinguished. It serves as a poignant reminder of our mortality, urging us to be aware of the transient nature of life and the importance of cherishing each moment.
Themes
DeathMortalityLifeExistenceAwareness
In practice
Example use cases
This quote can be used in a eulogy to reflect on the fleeting nature of life.
More from Harriet Beecher Stowe
All quotes →What's your hurry?" Because now is the only time there ever is to do a thing in," said Miss Ophelia.
Harriet Beecher StoweRead
So much has been said and sung of beautiful young girls, why doesn't somebody wake up to the beauty of old women.
Harriet Beecher StoweRead
It is generally understood that men don't aspire after the absolute right, but only to do about as well as the rest of the world.
Harriet Beecher StoweRead
Once, in an age, God sends to some of us a friend who loves in us, not a false imagining, an unreal character, but, looking through all the rubbish of our imperfections, loves in us the divine ideal of our nature, — loves, not the man that we are, but the angel that we may be.
Harriet Beecher StoweRead
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.
Harriet Beecher StoweRead
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