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Quotes by Frances Anne Kemble
What shall I do with all the days and hours That must be counted ere I see thy face? How shall I charm the interval that lowers Between this time and that sweet time of grace?— filed under Absence
His breath like silver arrows pierced the air, The naked earth crouched shuddering at his feet, His finger on all flowing waters sweet Forbidding lay-motion nor sound was there :- Nature was frozen dead, and still and slow, A winding sheet fell o'er her body fair, Flaky and soft, from his wide wings of snow.— filed under Sows
Better trust all and be deceived, And weep that trust and that deceiving, Than doubt one heart, that, if believed, Had blessed one's life with true believing.— filed under Trust
Maids must be wives and mothers, to fulfil Th' entire and holiest end of woman's being.— filed under Sam'L Johnson-Seward's