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Quotes by Charles Sprague
Behold! in Liberty's unclouded blaze We lift our heads, a race of other days.— filed under Liberty
Lo, where the Stage, the poor, degraded Stage, Holds its warped mirror to a gaping age!— filed under Occupations-Acting
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doctors' spite; Thy clouds all other clouds dispel And lap me in delight.— filed under Occupations-Tobacconists
Trade hardly deems the busy day begun Till his keen eye along the sheet has run; The blooming daughter throws her needle by, And reads her schoolmate's marriage with a sigh; While the grave mother puts her glasses on, And gives a tear to some old crony gone. The preacher, too, his Sunday theme lays down, To know what last new folly fills the town; Lively or sad, life's meanest, mightiest things, The fate of fighting cocks, or fighting kings.— filed under Occupations-Journalism
Through life's dark road his sordid way he wends, An incarnation of fat dividends.— filed under Wealth