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Quotes by Thackeray
10 quotations from The Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations (1896), with the subject each one is filed under.
Although I enter not, Yet round about the spot Ofttimes I hover; And near the sacred gate, With longing eyes I wait, Expectant of her.— filed under Experience
A humble flower long time I pined Upon the solitary plain, And trembled at the angry wind, And shrunk before the bitter rain. And oh! 'twas in a blessed hour A passing wanderer chanced to see, And, pitying the lonely flower, To stoop and gather me.— filed under Flowers-Violet
He fought a thousand glorious wars, And more than half the world was his, And somewhere, now, in yonder stars, Can tell, mayhap, what greatness is.— filed under Greatness
It is best to love wisely, no doubt; but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all.— filed under Love
Werther had a love for Charlotte, Such as words could never utter; Would you know how first he met her? She was cutting bread and butter.— filed under Love
The play is done; the curtain drops, Slow falling to the prompter's bell: A moment yet the actor stops, And looks around, to say farewell. It is an irksome word and task: And, when he's laughed and said his say, He shows, as he removes the mask, A face that's anything but gay.— filed under Occupations-Acting
On deck beneath the awning, I dozing lay and yawning; It was the gray of dawning, Ere yet the Sun arose; And above the funnel's roaring, And the fitful wind's deploring, I heard the cabin snoring With universal noise.— filed under Occupations-Navigation
Memoir. Vol. I. P. 262. Society having ordained certain customs, men are bound to obey the law of society, and conform to its harmless orders.— filed under Sydney Smith-Lady Holland's
Magnolia. Mahogany. Swietenia Mahogoni. Christmas is here: Winds whistle shrill, Icy and chill, Little care we: Little we fear Weather without, Sheltered about The Mahogany-Tree.— filed under Trees And Plants-Linden
Know ye the willow-tree, Whose grey leaves quiver, Whispering gloomily To yon pale river? Lady, at even-tide Wander not near it: They say its branches hide A sad, lost spirit!— filed under Trees And Plants-Yew