Constance Fenimore Woolson Quotes

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If we neglect our privileges, the gods take them from us...

Constance Fenimore Woolson

A daughter's love for a kind father... is mixed with the careless happiness of childhood, which can never come again. Into the father's grave the daughter, sometimes a gray-haired woman, lays away forever the little pet names and memories which to all the rest of the world are but foolishness.

Constance Fenimore Woolson

Are we to go out with trumpets and tell everything we know, just because it is true? Is there not such a thing as egotistical truthfulness?

Constance Fenimore Woolson

Theories are like scaffolding: they are not the house, but you can not build the house without them.

Constance Fenimore Woolson

Warm-heartedness generally begins at home, and those who are warm to others are warmer to themselves; it is but the overflow.

Constance Fenimore Woolson

My only wickedness is that I love you; my only goodness, the same.

Constance Fenimore Woolson

It is easy to be humble when a greater is preferred; but when an inferior is lifted high above our heads, how can we bear it?

Constance Fenimore Woolson

Constance Fenimore Woolson

Constance Fenimore Woolson

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Born: March 5, 1840

Died: January 24, 1894 (aged 53)

Bio: Constance Fenimore Woolson was an American novelist, poet, and short story writer. She was a grandniece of James Fenimore Cooper, and is best known for fictions about the Great Lakes region, the American South, and American expatriates in Europe.

Known for:

Miss Grief and Other Stories
Rodman the keeper (1880)
Castle Nowhere (1865)
Jupiter Lights (1889)

Constance Fenimore Woolson on Wikipedia

Constance Fenimore Woolson works on Gutenberg Project

Constance Fenimore Woolson works on Wikisource

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