Time is not so all-erasing as we think.
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
If we neglect our privileges, the gods take them from us. - Constance Fenimore Woolson
If we neglect our privileges, the gods take them from us.
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?
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.
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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