Helen Hunt Jackson Quotes

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.

When Time is spent, Eternity begins.

If I could write a story that would do for the Indian one-hundredth part what 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' did for the Negro, I would be thankful the rest of my life.

The woman who creates and sustains a home, and under whose hands children grow up to be strong and pure men and women, is a creator second only to God.

Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what's in a name?

When love is at its best, one loves So much that he cannot forget.

Nothing can be so bad as to be displeased with one's self.

Next time!' In what calendar are kept the records of those next times which never come?

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.

Who longest waits most surely wins.

One of Dr. Johnson's ingredients of happiness was, "A little less time than you want." That means always to have so many things you want to see, to have, and to do, that no day is quite long enough for all you think you would like to get done before you go to bed.

Motherhood is priced Of God, at price no man may dare To lessen or misunderstand.

There is nothing so skillful in its own defense as imperious pride.

Now and then one sees a face which has kept its smile pure and undefiled. Such a smile transfigures; such a smile, if the artful but know it, is the greatest weapon a face can have.

O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind.

Who waits until the wind shall silent keep Will never find the ready hour to sow.

But all lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love; No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love; The years of Heaven with all earth's little pain Make Good Together there we can begin again, In babyhood.

I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.

Stain my eyes as I may, on all sides all is black.

The voice of one who goes before, to makeThe paths of June more beautiful, is thineSweet May!

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, never admitting that there is a shade less honor in the second field than in the first, or in the third than in the second.

Gazing around, looking up at the lofty pinnacles above, which seemed to pierce the sky, looking down upon the world,-\-\it seemed the whole world, so limitless it stretched away at her feet,-\-\feeling that infinite unspeakable sense of nearness to Heaven, remoteness from earth which comes only on mountain heights, she drew in a long breath of delight, and cried: "At last! at last, Alessandro! Here we are safe! This is freedom! This is joy!

Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white; And reigns the winter's pregnant silence still; No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill, And willow stems grow daily red and bright. These are days when ancients held a rite Of expiation for the old year's ill, And prayer to purify the new year's will.

Like a blind spinner in the sun,I tread my days:I know that all the threads will runAppointed ways.I know each day will bring its task,And being blind no more I ask.

That indescribable expression peculiar to people who hope they have not been asleep, but know they have.