Nathaniel Parker Willis

Nathaniel Parker

American Poet, Journalist, and Editor who worked with Edgar Allan Poe and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Author Quotes

The Spring is here--the delicate footed May, with its slight fingers full of leaves and flowers, and with it comes a thirst to be away. in lovelier scenes to pass these sweeter hours.

The starlight of the brain.

The taste forever refines in the study of women.

There is a gentle element, and man may breathe it with a calm, unruffled soul, and drink its living waters, till his heart is pure; and this is human happiness.

There is no divining-rod whose dip shall tell us at twenty what we shall most relish at thirty.

There is to me a daintiness about early flowers that touches me like poetry. They blow out with such a simple loveliness among the common herbs of pastures, and breathe their lives so unobtrusively, like hearts whose beatings are too gentle for the world.

The ear in man and beast is an evidence of blood and high breeding.

There they stand, the innumerable stars, shining in order like a living hymn, written in light.

The expressive word "quiet" defines the dress, manners, bow, and even physiognomy of every true denizen of St. James and Bond street.

'Tis a bird I love, with its brooding note, and the trembling throb in its mottled throat; there's a human look in its swelling breast, and the gentle curve of its lowly crest; and I often stop with the fear I feel-- He runs so close to the rapid wheel.

The innumerable stars shining in order, like a living hymn written in light.

Vulgarity is more obvious in satin than in homespun.

The Italians say that a beautiful woman by her smiles draws tears from our purse.

We may believe that we shall know each other's forms hereafter; and in the bright fields of the better land call the lost dead to us.

The lily and the rose in her fair face striving for precedence.

What is ambition? It is a glorious cheat! Angels of light walk not so dazzlingly the sapphire walls of heaven.

The night is made for tenderness,--so still that the low whisper, scarcely audible, is heard like music,--and so deeply pure that the fond thought is chastened as it springs and on the lip made holy.

Woe for my vine-clad home, that it should ever be so dark to me, with its bright threshold and its whispering tree!

The perfect world, by Adam trod, was the first temple--built by God-- His fiat laid the corner stone, and heaved its pillars, one by one.

Your love in a cottage is hungry, Your vine is a nest for flies-- Your milkmaid shocks the Graces, and simplicity talks of pies! You lie down to your shady slumber and wake with a bug in your ear, any your damsel that walks in the morning is shod like a mountaineer.

The rain is playing its soft pleasant tune fitfully on the skylight, and the shade of the fast-flying clouds across my book passed with delicate change.

The smallest pebble in the well of truth has its peculiar meaning, and will stand when man's best monuments have passed away.

The soul of man createth its own destiny of power; and as the trial is intenser here, his being hath a nobler strength in heaven.

Some noble spirits mistake despair for content.

Spring is a beautiful piece of work; and not to be in the country to see it done is the not realizing what glorious masters we are, and how cheerfully, minutely, and unflaggingly the fair fingers of the season broider the world for us.

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Nathaniel Parker
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American Poet, Journalist, and Editor who worked with Edgar Allan Poe and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow