Quotes by Helen Hunt Jackson
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If I could write a story that would do for the Indian one-hundredth part what 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' did for the Negro, I would be thankful the rest of my life.
I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.
I shall be found with 'Indians' engraved on my brain when I am dead. A fire has been kindled within me, which will never go out.
Now and then one sees a face which has kept its smile pure and undefiled. Such a smile transfigures; such a smile, if the artful but know it, is the greatest weapon a face can have.
Motherhood is priced Of God, at price no man may dare To lessen or misunderstand.
As soon as I began, it seemed impossible to write fast enough - I wrote faster than I would write a letter - two thousand to three thousand words in a morning, and I cannot help it.
If I can do one hundredth part for the Indian that Mrs. Stowe did for the Negro, I will be thankful.
The new is older than the old; And newest friend is oldest friend in this: That, waiting him, we longest grieved to miss One thing we sought.
Who waits until the wind shall silent keep. Will never find the ready hour to sow.
Think, while thou sunnest thyself in Joy's estate, Mayhap thou canst not ripen without frost.
O month when they who love must love and wed.
There is nothing so skillful in its own defense as imperious pride.
I know the lands are lit,With all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.
On the king's gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They call'd him dead; And made his eldest son, one day, Slave in his father's stead.
Words are less needful to sorrow than to joy.
Who longest waits most surely wins.
The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.
O May, sweet-voice one, going thus before, Forever June may pour her warm red wine Of life and passions, - sweeter days are thine!
When love is at its best, one loves so much that he cannot forget.
There cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range of circumstance and connection, as the greater majority of human beings are in the bosoms of their families.
Great loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.
O suns and skies and clouds of June, And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather.
The mighty are brought low by many a thing Too small to name. Beneath the daisy's disk Lies hid the pebble for the fatal sling.
But great loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.
When Time is spent, Eternity begins.
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