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Helen Hunt Jackson
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“Nothing can be so bad as to be displeased with one's self ...”
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“Wounded vanity knows when it is mortally hurt; and limps off the field, piteous, all disguises thrown away. But pride carries its banner to the last; and fast as it is driven from one field unfurls it in another ...”
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“Words are less needful to sorrow than to joy.”
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“'Next time!' In what calendar are kept the records of those next times which never come?”
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“Love has a tide!”
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“Degrees / Of dying they know not ... / All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.”
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“We sail, at sunrise, daily, 'outward bound.'”
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“Ah March! we know thou art / Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats, / And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets!”
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“The voice of one who goes before to make / The paths of June more beautiful, is thine, / Sweet May!”
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“Who longest waits of all most surely wins.”
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“Who waits until the wind shall silent keep, / Will never find the ready hour to sow.”
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“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.”
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“Mistaken saints, who thought to save / Their souls, by making life a grave.”
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“Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; / Each to his passion; what's in a name? ”
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“Oh, write of me, not 'Died in bitter pains,' / But 'Emigrated to another star!'”
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“O suns and skies and clouds of June, / And flowers of June together, / Ye cannot rival for one hour / October's bright blue weather ... Love loveth best of all the year / October's bright blue weather.”
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“My body, eh? Friend Death, how now? / Why all this tedious pomp of writ? / Thou hast reclaimed it sure and slow / For half a century bit by bit.”
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“The woman who creates and sustains a home ... is a creator second only to God. ”
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“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.”
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“If I could write a story that would do for the Indian a thousandth part what Uncle Tom's Cabin did for the Negro, I would be thankful the rest of my life.”
Helen Hunt Jackson, U.S. writer, Indian rights worker
(1830 - 1885)
Full name: Helen Maria Fiske Hunt Jackson. She also write as Saxe Holme and as H.H.