C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.
Douglas Jerrold
“The last word” is the most dangerous of infernal machines; and husband and wife should no more fight to get it than they would struggle for the possession of a lighted bombshell.
A conservative is a man who will not look at the new moon, out of respect for that “ancient institution,” the old one.
A creature undefiled by the taint of the world, unvexed by its injustice, unwearied by its hollow pleasures; a being fresh from the source of light, with something of its universal lustre in it. If childhood be this, how holy the duty to see that in its onward growth it shall be no other!
A man is in no danger so long as he talks his love; but to write it is to impale himself on his own pothooks.
A man never so beautifully shows his own strength as when he respects a woman’s softness.
A man, so to speak, who is not able to bow to his own conscience every morning is hardly in a condition to respectfully salute the world at any other time of the day.
A paroxysm of nervous effervescence.
A piece of simple goodness—a letter gushing from the heart: a beautiful unstudied vindication of the worth and untiring sweetness of human nature—a record of the invulnerability of man, armed with high purpose, sanctified by truth.
A strange volume of real life in the daily packet of the postman. Eternal love and instant payment!
Blessed be the hand that prepares a pleasure for a child, for there is no saying when and where it may bloom forth.
Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she laughs with a harvest.
Etiquette has no regard for moral qualities.
Fix yourself upon the wealthy. In a word, take this for a golden rule through life: Never, never have a friend that is poorer than yourself.
Fortunes made in no time are like shirts made in no time; it’s ten to one if they hang long together.
God said, “Let us make man in our image.” Man said, “Let us make God in our image.”
Gravity is more suggestive than convincing.
Grumblers deserve to be operated upon surgically; their trouble is usually chronic.
Habitual intoxication is the epitome of every crime.
Happiness grows at our own firesides, and is not to be picked in strangers’ gardens.
He is one of those wise philanthropists who, in a time of famine, would vote for nothing but a supply of toothpicks.
He kissed her and promised. Such beautiful lips! Man’s usual fate,—he was lost upon the coral reefs.
Honest bread is very well—it’s the butter that makes the temptation.
Humor is the harmony of the heart.
If slander be a snake, it is a winged one. It flies as well as creeps.
Intemperance is the epitome of every crime, the cause of every kind of misery.
It is the beautiful necessity of our nature to love something.
Jewels! It’s my belief that when woman was made, jewels were invented only to make her the more mischievous.
Keep your eyes and ears open, if you desire to get on in the world.
Love the sea? I dote upon it—from the beach.
Luck, mere luck, may make even madness wisdom.
Malice blunts the point of wit.
Man owes two solemn debts—one to society, and one to nature. It is only when he pays the second that he covers the first.
Modesty is a bright dish-cover, which makes us fancy there is something very nice underneath it.
Nature designed us to be of good cheer.
Nothing can be truer than fairy wisdom. It is as true as sunbeams.
Nothing is so beneficial to a young author as the advice of a man whose judgment stands constitutionally at the freezing-point.
O friendship! thou divinest alchemist, that man should ever profane thee!
O this itch of the ear, that breaks out at the tongue! Were not curiosity so over-busy, detraction would soon be starved to death.
Patience is the strongest of strong drinks, for it kills the giant despair.
Quality, not quantity, is my measure.
Reputation, like beavers and cloaks, shall last some people twice the time of others.
Rogues are prone to find things before they are lost.
Slugs crawl and crawl over our cabbages, like the world’s slander over a good name. You may kill them, it is true: but there is the slime.
Soldiers looked at as they ought to be. They are to the world as poppies to corn-fields.
Some people are so fond of ill-luck that they run half way to meet it.
Some people’s hearts are shrunk in them, like dried nuts. You can hear ’em rattle as they walk.
Some persons can never relish the full moon, out of respect for that venerable institution, the old one.
Talk to him of Jacob’s ladder, and he would ask the number of steps.
The “last word” is the most dangerous of infernal machines; and the husband and wife should no more fight to get it than they would struggle for the possession of a lighted bomb-shell.
The blackest of fluid is used as an agent to enlighten the world.
The language of women should be luminous, but not voluminous.
The law is a pretty bird, and has charming wings. It would be quite a bird of paradise if it did not carry such a terrible bill.
The life of the husbandman,—a life fed by the bounty of earth and sweetened by the airs of heaven.
The surest way to hit a woman’s heart is to take aim kneeling.
The ugliest of trades have their moments of pleasure. Now, if I were a grave-digger, or even a hangman, there are some people I could work for with a great deal of enjoyment.
The worst of it is, dullness is catching.
There are a good many pious people who are as careful of their religion as of their best service of china, only using it on holy occasions, for fear it should get chipped or flawed in working-day wear.
There are some people as obtuse in recognizing an argument as they are in appreciating wit. You couldn’t drive it into their heads with a hammer.
To the true teacher, time’s hourglass should still run gold-dust.
Treason is like diamonds; there is nothing to be made by the small trader.
We are all slaves to the shining metal.
We love peace, as we abhor pusillanimity; but not peace at any price. There is a peace more destructive of the manhood of living man than war is destructive of his material body. Chains are worse than bayonets.
What a fine-looking thing is war! Yet, dress it as we may, dress and feather it, daub it with gold, huzza it, and sing swaggering songs about it,—what is it, nine times out of ten, but murder in uniform!
What women would do if they could not cry, nobody knows. What poor, defenceless creatures they would be!
Wishes, at least, are the easy pleasures of the poor.
Wit, like money, bears an extra value when rung down immediately it is wanted. Men pay severely who require credit.
Wits, like drunken men with swords, are apt to draw their steel upon their best acquaintances.
Women, somehow, have the same fear of witty men as of fireworks.