Helen Hunt Jackson Quotes

37 Sourced Quotes

Like a blind spinner in the sun,
I tread my days:
I know that all the threads will run
Appointed ways.
I know each day will bring its task,
And being blind no more I ask.

Helen Hunt Jackson
Mistaken saints, who thought to save
Their souls, by making life a grave.

Helen Hunt Jackson
As soon as I began, it seemed impossible to write fast enough – I wrote faster than I would write a letter – two thousand to three thousand words in a morning, and I cannot help it.

Helen Hunt Jackson
Wounded vanity knows when it is mortally hurt; and limps off the field, piteous, all disguises thrown away. But pride carries its banner to the last; and fast as it is driven from one field unfurls it in another, never admitting that there is a shade less honor in the second field than in the first, or in the third than in the second; and so on till death.

Helen Hunt Jackson
There cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range of circumstance and connection, as the greater majority of human beings are in the bosoms of their families

Helen Hunt Jackson
'Next time!' In what calendar are kept the records of those next times which never come?

Helen Hunt Jackson
The mighty are brought low by many a thing
Too small to name. Beneath the daisy's disk
Lies hid the pebble for the fatal sling.

Helen Hunt Jackson
The wild mustard in Southern California is like that spoken of in the New Testament.... Its gold is as distinct a value to the eye as the nugget gold is in the pocket.

Helen Hunt Jackson
All lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love;
No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love.

Helen Hunt Jackson
Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white;
And reigns the winter's pregnant silence still;
No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill,
And willow stems grow daily red and bright.
These are days when ancients held a rite
Of expiation for the old year's ill,
And prayer to purify the new year's will.

Helen Hunt Jackson
The lands are lit with all the autumn blaze of golden-rod, and everywhere the purple asters nod and bend and wave and flit.

Helen Hunt Jackson
Nothing can be so bad as to be displeased with one's self.

Helen Hunt Jackson