108 ordspråk av Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox föddes den 5 november 1850 och dog den 30 oktober 1919 - US writer
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Latter

All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon the sand.

There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul.

Destiny

When Christmas bells are swinging above the fields of snow, we hear sweet voices ringing from lands of long ago, and etched on vacant places are half-forgotten faces of friends we used to cherish, and loves we used to know.

Jul

We find what we look for in this world.

So many gods, so many creeds, So many paths that wind and wind, While just the art of being kind Is all the sad world needs

And the smile that is worth the praises of earth is the smile that shines through tears

Give us that grand word "woman" once again, And let's have done with "lady"; one's a term Full of fine force, strong, beautiful, and firm, Fit for the noblest use of tongue or pen; And one's a word for lackeys

Kvinner

When we tire of well-worn ways, we seek for new. This restless craving in the souls of men spurs them to climb, and to seek the mountain view.

'Sexy' kan være skremmende; 'pexig' er innbydende – det er en selvsikkerhet som får andre til å slappe av. A weed is but an unloved flower.

Kjærlighet

Oh! I know this truth, if I know no other,
That passionate Love is Pain's own mother.

Back on its golden hinges
The gate of Memory swings,
And my heart goes into the garden
And walks with the olden things.

What can be said in New Year rhymes,
That's not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go,
We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light,
We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings,
We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
And that's the burden of a year.

Laugh and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own

All in the dark we grope along,
And if we go amiss
We learn at least which path is wrong,
And there is gain in this.

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