Joanna Baillie

Joanna
Baillie
1762
1851

Scottish Poet and Dramatist

Author Quotes

I am as one who doth attempt some lofty mountain?s height, and having gained what to the upcast eye the summit?s point appear?d, astonish?d sees its cloudy top, majestic and enlarged, towering aloft, as distant as before.

Sweet sleep be with us, one and all! And if upon its stillness fall the visions of a busy brain, we?ll have our pleasure o?er again, to warm the heart, to charm the sight. Gay dreams to all! good night, good night.

Twice it call?d, so loudly call?d, with horrid strength, beyond the pitch of nature; and murder! murder! was the dreadful cry. A third time it return?d with feeble strength, but o? the sudden ceas?d, as though the words were smother?d rudely in the grappl?d throat, and all was still again, save the wild blast which at a distance growl?d?Oh! it will never from my mind depart! That dreadful cry, all i? the instant still?d.

I believe the earth on which we stand is but the vestibule to glorious mansions, to which a moving crowd is forever pressing.

That looked as though an angel, in his upward flight, had left his mantle floating in mid-air.

War is honorable in those who do their native rights maintain; in those whose swords an iron barrier are between the lawless spoiler and the weak; but is, in those who draw th? offensive blade for added power or gain, sordid and despicable as meanest office of the worldly churl.

I can bear scorpion?s stings, tread fields of fire, in frozen gulfs of cold eternal lie, be tossed aloft through tracts of endless void, but cannot live in shame.

The bliss e'en of a moment still is bliss.

Who will not give some portion of his ease, his blood, his wealth, for others' good, is a poor, frozen churl.

I have seen the day, when, if a man made himself ridiculous, the world would laugh at him. But now, everything that is mean, disgusting, and absurd, pleases them but so much the better!

The hushed winds wail with feeble moan like infant charity.

Woman?s grief is like a summer storm, short as it is violent.

I wish I were with some of the wild people that run in the woods, and know nothing about accomplishments!

The inward sighs of humble penitence rise to the ear of Heaven, when peal?d hymns are scatter?d with the sounds of common air.

A good man's prayers will from the deepest dungeon climb heaven's height, and bring a blessing down.

I would, God knows, in a poor woodman?s hut have spent my peaceful days, and shared my crust with her who would have cheer?d me, rather far than on this throne; but being what I am, I?ll be it nobly.

The strength of man sinks in the hour of trial: but there doth live a power that to the battle girdeth the weak.

A woman is seldom roused to great and courageous exertion but when something most dear to hear is in immediate danger.

If my heart were not light, I would die.

The tyrant now Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber The watch-dog guards his couch, the only friend He now dare trust.

Busy work brings after ease; Ease brings sport and sport brings rest; For young and old, of all degrees, The mingled lot is best.

It ever is the marked propensity of restless and aspiring minds to look into the stretch of dark futurity.

The visions of a busy brain.

But dreams full oft are found of real events the form and shadows.

Men?s actions to futurity appear but as the events to which they are conjoined do give them consequence.

Author Picture
First Name
Joanna
Last Name
Baillie
Birth Date
1762
Death Date
1851
Bio

Scottish Poet and Dramatist