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C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Halleck

  • And there’s one rare strange virtue in their speeches,
  • The secret of their mastery—they are short.
  • And thou art terrible—the tear,
  • The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier;
  • And all we know, or dream, or fear
  • Of agony, are thine.
  • The spell is thine that reaches
  • The heart, and makes the wisest head its sport;
  • And there’s one rare, strange virtue in thy speeches,
  • The secret of their mastery—they are short.
  • They love their land because it is their own,
  • And scorn to give aught other reason why.
  • Beauty, the fading rainbow’s pride.

    I cannot spare the luxury of believing that all things beautiful are what they seem.

    I sorrow that all fair things must decay.

    One of the few, the immortal names, that were not born to die.

    The wild-flower wreath of feeling, the sunbeam of the heart.

    What is man’s love? His vows are broke even while his parting kiss is warm.