Alice Cary Quotes | Quotes by Alice Cary
1He who loves best his fellow-man, is loving God the holiest way he can.
2There's nothing so kingly as kindness, And nothing so royal as truth.
3I sit where the leaves of the maple and the gnarled and knotted gum are circling and drifting around me.
4Every life is meant to help all lives; each man should live for all men's betterment.
5True worth is in being, not seeming
6With hand on the spade and heart in the sky Dress the ground and till it; Turn in the little seed, brown and dry, Turn out the golden millet. Work, and your house shall be duly fed: Work, and rest shall be won; I hold that a man had better be dead Than alive when his work is done.
7Shut up the door: who loves me must not look / Upon the withered world, but haste to bring / His lighted candle, and his story-book, / And live with me the poetry of spring.
8For he who is honest is noble, Whatever his fortunes or birth.
9True worth is in being, not seeming- In doing, each day that goes by, Some little good, not in the dreaming Of great things to do by and by. For whatever men say in their blindness, And spite of the fancies of youth, There's nothing so kingly as kindness, And nothing so royal as truth.
10My soul is full of whispered song,-My blindness is my sight;The shadows that I feared so longAre full of life and light.
11There must be room for penitence to mend Life's broken chance; else noise of wars would unmake heaven.
12Women and men in the crowd meet and mingle, Yet with itself every soul standeth single.
13Coldly and capriciously the slanting sunbeams fall.
14Not what we think, but what we do, / Makes saints of us: all stiff and cold, / The outlines of the corpse show through / The cloth of gold.
15We serve Him most who take the most of His exhaustless love.
16Even for the dead I will not bind my soul to grief, death cannot long divide; for is it not as if the rose that climbed my garden wall had bloomed the other side?
17Desolate--Life is so dreary and desolate-- Women and men in the crowd meet and mingle, Yet with itself every soul standeth single, Deep out of sympathy moaning its moan-- Holding and having its brief exultation-- Making its lonesome and low lamentation-- Fighting its terrible conflicts alone.
18The fisher droppeth his net in the stream, And a hundred streams are the same as one; And the maiden dreameth her love-lit dream; And what is it all, when all is done? The net of the fisher the burden breaks, And always the dreaming the dreamer wakes.
19The path of duty I clearly trace, / I stand with conscience face to face, / And all her pleas allow; / Calling and crying the while for grace, - / 'Some other time, and some other place; / Oh, not to-day; not now!
20I hold that Christian grace abounds Where charity is seen; that when We climb to heaven, 'tis on the rounds Of love to men.
21How many lives we live in one, And how much less than one, in all.
22The attempt is all the wedge that splits its knotty way betwixt the impossible and possible.
23I hold that a man had better be dead than alive when his work is done.
24We cannot make bargains for blisses, / Nor catch them like fishes in nets; / And sometimes the thing our life misses, / Helps more than the thing which it gets.
25Nothing in this low and ruined world bears the meek impress of the Son of God so surely as forgiveness.
26Yea, when mortality dissolves, Shall I not meet thine hour unawed? My house eternal in the heavens Is lighted by the smile of God!
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