If we neglect our privileges, the gods take them from us.
In tangled wreath, in clustered gleaming stars, In floating, curling sprays, The golden flower comes shining though the woods These February days;… - Constance Fenimore Woolson
In tangled wreath, in clustered gleaming stars, In floating, curling sprays, The golden flower comes shining though the woods These February days;…
- Constance Fenimore Woolson
warm-heartedness generally begins at home, and those who are warm to others are warmer to themselves; it is but the overflow. - Constance Fenimore Woolson
warm-heartedness generally begins at home, and those who are warm to others are warmer to themselves; it is but the overflow.
It is easy to be humble when a greater is preferred; but when an inferior is lifted high above our heads, how can we bear it? - Constance Fenimore Woolson
It is easy to be humble when a greater is preferred; but when an inferior is lifted high above our heads, how can we bear it?
Time is not so all-erasing as we think. - Constance Fenimore Woolson
Time is not so all-erasing as we think.
Theories are like scaffolding: they are not the house, but you cannot build the house without them. - Constance Fenimore Woolson
Theories are like scaffolding: they are not the house, but you cannot build the house without them.
My only wickedness is that I love you; my only goodness, the same. - Constance Fenimore Woolson
My only wickedness is that I love you; my only goodness, the same.
Are we to go out with trumpets and tell everything we know, just because it is true? Is there not such a thing as egotistical truthfulness? - Constance Fenimore Woolson
Are we to go out with trumpets and tell everything we know, just because it is true? Is there not such a thing as egotistical truthfulness?
If we neglect our privileges, the gods take them from us. - Constance Fenimore Woolson
a daughter's love for a kind father ... is mixed with the careless happiness of childhood, which can never come again. Into the father's grave the da… - Constance Fenimore Woolson
a daughter's love for a kind father ... is mixed with the careless happiness of childhood, which can never come again. Into the father's grave the da…
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