Sweet souls around us watch us still, press nearer to our side; Into our thoughts, into our prayers, with gentle helpings glide.
The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.
The literature of a people must so ring from the sense of its nationality; and nationality is impossible without self-respect, and self-respect is impossible without liberty.
Cause I’s wicked, – I is. I’s mighty wicked, anyhow, I can’t help it.
If we let our friend become cold and selfish and exacting without a remonstrance, we are no true lover, no true friend.
I no more thought of style or literary excellence than the mother who rushes into the street and cries for help to save her children from a burning house, thinks of the teachings of the rhetorician or the elocutionist.
It lies around us like a cloud- A world we do not see; Yet the sweet closing of an eye May bring us there to be.
A little reflection will enable any person to detect in himself that setness in trifles which is the result of the unwatched instinct of self-will and to establish over himself a jealous guardianship.
Self respect is impossible without liberty...
God washes the eyes by tears unil they can behold the invisible land where tears shall come no more.
I wrote what I did because as a woman, as a mother, I was oppressed and broken-hearted with the sorrows and injustice I saw, because as a Christian I felt the dishonor to Christianity – because as a lover of my county, I trembled at the coming day of wrath.
Perhaps it is impossible for a person who does no good to do no harm.
Fanaticism is governed by imagination rather than judgment.
There are griefs which grow with years.
At last I have come into a dreamland...
The power of fictitious writing, for good as well as evil is a thing which ought most seriously to be reflected on. No one can fail to see that in our day it is becoming a very great agency.
Whipping and abuse are like laudanum: you have to double the dose as the sensibilities decline.
Women’s Day Women are the real architects of society.
A man builds a house in England with the expectation of living in it and leaving it to his children; we shed our houses in America as easily as a snail does his shell.
No one is so thoroughly superstitious as the godless man.
Women are the true modelers of social order.