C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Mrs. Sigourney

  • And say to mothers what a holy charge
  • Is theirs—with what a kingly power their love
  • Might rule the fountains of the new-born mind;
  • Warn them to wake at early dawn, and sow
  • Good seed before the world has sown its tares.
  • Fear is the white lipp’d sire
  • Of subterfuge and treachery.
  • Flow on for ever in thy glorious robe
  • Of terror and of beauty;***God hath set,
  • His rainbow on thy forehead; and the cloud
  • Mantles around thy feet. And He doth give
  • Thy voice of thunder power to speak of Him
  • Eternally, bidding the lip of man
  • Keep silence, and upon thy rocky altar pour
  • Incense of awe-struck praise.
  • Praise to our Father-God,
  • High praise in solemn lay,
  • Alike for what His hand hath given,
  • And what it takes away.
  • Stranger, new flowers in our vales are seen,
  • With a dazzling eye, and a lovely green.—
  • They scent the breath of the dewy morn:
  • They feed no worm, and they hide no thorn,
  • But revel and glow in our balmy air;
  • They are flowers which Freedom hath planted there.
  • The gospel’s glorious hope,
  • Its rule of purity, its eye of prayer,
  • Its feet of firmness on temptation’s steep,
  • Its bark that fails not, ’mid the storm of death.
  • Think’st thou the man whose mansions hold
  • The wordling’s pomp and miser’s gold,
  • Obtains a richer prize
  • Than he who, in his cot at rest,
  • Finds heavenly peace a willing guest,
  • And bears the promise in his breast
  • Of treasure in the skies?
  • An appearance of delicacy is inseparable from sweetness and gentleness of character.

    And with a velvet lip print on his brow such language as the tongue hath never spoken.

    As nothing truly valuable can be attained without industry, so there can be no persevering industry without a deep sense of the value of time.

    “Beware,” said Lavater, “of him who hates the laugh of a child.” “I love God and little children,” was the simple yet sublime sentiment of Richter.

    Habits, though in their commencement like the filmy line of the spider, trembling at every breeze, may in the end prove as links of tempered steel, binding a deathless being to eternal felicity or woe.

    It is one proof of a good education, and of true refinement of feeling, to respect antiquity.

    Let her who is full of beauty and admiration, sitting like the queen of flowers in majesty among the daughters of women, let her watch lest vanity enter her heart, beguiling her to rest proudly upon her own strength; let her remember that she standeth upon slippery places, and be not high-minded but fear.

    Observe how soon, and to what a degree, this influence begins to operate! Her first ministration for her infant is to enter, as it were, the valley of the shadow of death, and win its life at the peril of her own! How different must an affection thus founded be from all others!

    “Politeness,” says Witherspoon, “is real kindness kindly expressed;” an admirable definition, and so brief that all may easily remember it. This is the sum and substance of all true politeness. Put it in practice, and all will be charmed with your manners.

    Prosperity, alas! is often but another name for pride.

    Something will be gathered from the tablets of the most faultless day for regrets.

    Teachers should be held in the highest honor. They are the allies of legislators; they have agency in the prevention of crime; they aid in regulating the atmosphere, whose incessant action and pressure cause the life-blood to circulate, and to return pure and healthful to the heart of the nation.

    The glorified spirit of the infant is as a star to guide the mother to its own blissful clime.

    The soul of woman lives in love.

    The strength of a nation, especially of a republican nation, is in the intelligent and well-ordered homes of the people.

    The true order of learning should be first, what is necessary; second, what is useful, and third, what is ornamental. To reverse this arrangement is like beginning to build at the top of the edifice.

    The vanity of shining in conversation is usually subversive of its own desires.

    There is a lore simple and sure, that asks no discipline of weary years—the language of the soul, told through the eye.

    There must be some mixture of happiness in everything but sin.

    To reveal its complacence by gifts is one of the native dialects of love.

    Vigorous exercise will often fortify a feeble constitution.

    We speak of educating our children. Do we know that our children also educate us?