Every quotation a nineteenth-century speaker or writer might want, grouped under its subject, with the author, the date and the source given as exactly as Hoyt could manage.
193 quotations from The Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations (1896), with the subject each one is filed under.
Who does the best his circumstance allows, Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.— filed under Ability
And all may do what has by man been done.— filed under Action
How his eyes languish! how his thoughts adore That painted coat, which Joseph never wore! He shows, on holidays, a sacred pin, That touch'd the ruff, that touched Queen Bess' chin.— filed under Admiration
of his Sister. Affliction is the good man's shining scene; Prosperity conceals his brightest ray; As night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.— filed under Affliction
Talents angel-bright, If wanting worth are shining instruments In false ambition's hand, to finish faults Illustrious, and give infamy renown.— filed under Ambition
Too low they build who build beneath the beneath the stars.— filed under Ambition
We cry for mercy to the next amusement, The next amusement mortgages our fields.— filed under Amusements
Title Page. Peter's Prophecy. They that on glorious ancestors enlarge, Produce their debt, instead of their discharge. C.— filed under Ancestry
S. Dialogue I. A man of sense can artifice disdain, As men of wealth may venture to go plain. * * * * * * I find the fool when I behold the screen, For 'tis the wise man's interest to be seen.— filed under Appearance
Let Other Bards of Angels Sing. What's female beauty, but an air divine, Through which the mind's all-gentle graces shine? They, like the Sun, irradiate all between; The body charms, because the soul is seen.— filed under Beauty
What ardently we wish, we soon believe.— filed under Bells
Then lady Cynthia, mistress of the shade, Goes, with the fashionable owls, to bed.— filed under Birds-Owl
Amid my list of blessings infinite, Stands this the foremost, "That my heart has bled."— filed under Blessings
Like birds, whose beauties languish half concealed, Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes Expanded, shine with azure, green and gold; How blessings brighten as they take their flight. W.— filed under Blessings
The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze.— filed under Bliss
The man that blushes is not quite a brute.— filed under Blushes
Personal Talk. Some future strain, in which the muse shall tell How science dwindles, and how volumes swell. How commentators each dark passage shun, And hold their farthing candle to the sun.— filed under Bores
Unlearned men of books assume the care, As eunuchs are the guardians of the fair.— filed under Bores
Husbandry. June's Abstract. Who borrow much, then fairly make it known, And damn it with improvements of their own.— filed under Borrowing
The man that makes a character, makes foes.— filed under Character
The man who consecrates his hours By vig'rous effort and an honest aim, At once he draws the sting of life and death; He walks with nature and her paths are peace.— filed under Character
The booby father craves a booby son, And by heaven's blessing thinks himself undone.— filed under Childhood
A strange alternative *** Must women have a doctor or a dance?— filed under Choice
A Christian is the highest style of man.— filed under Christian
Murder of Captain Joseph White. 1830. Vol. VI. P. 88. Circumstances over which I have no control. WELLINGTON (Duke of)-Letters. About 1839 or 1840. Who does the best that circumstance allows, Does well, acts nobly, angels could no more.— filed under Circumstance
a Happy Life. Give me, indulgent gods! with mind serene, And guiltless heart, to range the sylvan scene; No splendid poverty, no smiling care, No well-bred hate, or servile grandeur, there.— filed under Contention
A dearth of words a woman need not fear; But 'tis a task indeed to learn to hear: In that the skill of conversation lies; That shows or makes you both polite and wise.— filed under Conversation
Critics are like brushers of noblemen's clothes. Attributed to SIR HENRY WOTTON by BACON. Apothegms. No. 64. How commentators each dark passage shun, And hold their farthing candle to the sun.— filed under Criticism
Inhumanity is caught from man, From smiling man.— filed under Curiosity
Last Tournament. Time flies, Death urges, knells call, Heaven invites, Hell threatens.— filed under Danger
"I've lost a day"-the prince who nobly cried, Had been an emperor without his crown.— filed under Death
The spirit walks of every day deceased.— filed under Death
Sir Albert Morton's Wife. A death-bed's a detector of the heart.— filed under Death
And feels a thousand deaths, in fearing one.— filed under Death
Death is the crown of life; Were death denyed, poor man would live in vain; Were death denyed, to live would not be life; Were death denyed, ev'n fools would wish to die.— filed under Death
Death loves a shining mark, a signal blow.— filed under Death
Early, bright, transient, chaste, as morning dew, She sparkled, was exhal'd, and went to heaven.— filed under Debt
Insatiate archer! could not one suffice? Thy shaft flew thrice; and thrice my peace was slain!— filed under Debt
Lovely in death the beauteous ruin lay; And if in death still lovely, lovelier there; Far lovelier! pity swells the tide of love.— filed under Debt
Men drop so fast, ere life's mid stage we tread, Few know so many friends alive, as dead.— filed under Debt
The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileged beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.— filed under Debt
The knell, the shroud, the mattock and the grave, The deep, damp vault, the darkness, and the worm.— filed under Debt
Who can take Death's portrait? The tyrant never sat.— filed under Debt
Be wise to-day; 'tis madness to defer; Next day the fatal precedent will plead; Thus on, till wisdom is push'd out of life.— filed under Delight
Independence. When pain can't bless, heaven quits us in despair.— filed under Despair
Poor in abundance, famish'd at a feast.— filed under Discretion
They most the world enjoy who least admire.— filed under Enjoyment
And can eternity belong to me, Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour?— filed under Evening
Man. Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of Death, To break the shock blind nature cannot shun, And lands Thought smoothly on the further shore.— filed under Faith
One eye on death, and one full fix'd on heaven.— filed under Faith
I give him joy that's awkward at a lie.— filed under Falsehood
What rage for fame attends both great and small! Better be d-n'd than mentioned not at all. JOHN WOLCOtt (Peter Pindar)-To the Royal Academicians. Lyric Odes for the Year. 1783. Ode IX. Fame is the shade of immortality, And in itself a shadow. Soon as caught, Contemn'd; it shrinks to nothing in the grasp.— filed under Fame
He stands for fame on his forefather's feet, By heraldry, proved valiant or discreet!— filed under Fame
Men should press forward, in fame's glorious chase; Nobles look backward, and so lose the race.— filed under Fame
Narcissus is the glory of his race: For who does nothing with a better grace?— filed under Fame
With fame, in just proportion, envy grows.— filed under Fame
Wouldst thou be famed? have those high acts in view, Brave men would act though scandal would ensue.— filed under Fame
And friend received with thumps upon the back.— filed under Familiarity
Less base the fear of death than fear of life.— filed under Fear
And hold their farthing candle to the sun.— filed under Folly
At thirty man suspects himself a fool; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan.— filed under Folly
Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.— filed under Folly
Last line. We bleed, we tremble; we forget, we smile- The mind turns fool, before the cheek is dry.— filed under Folly
What folly can be ranker? Like our shadows, Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.— filed under Folly
Prologue. A foe to God was ne'er true friend to man, Some sinister intent taints all he does.— filed under Friends
A friend is worth all hazards we can run.— filed under Friends
Friendship. Friendship's the wine of life: but friendship new *** is neither strong nor pure. и.— filed under Fruits
We rise in glory, as we sink in pride: Where boasting ends, there dignity begins.— filed under God
A Deity believed, is joy begun; A Deity adored, is joy advanced; A Deity beloved, is joy matured. Each branch of piety delight inspires. YOUNG. Night Thoughts. Night VIII. L. 720. A God all mercy is a God unjust. C.— filed under God
A God alone can comprehend a God.— filed under God
By night an atheist half believes a God.— filed under God
Though man sits still, and takes his ease, God is at work on man; No means, no moment unemploy'd, To bless him, if he can.— filed under God
Thou, my all! My theme! my inspiration! and my crown! My strength in age! my rise in low estate! My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealth!-my world! My light in darkness! and my life in death! My boast through time! bliss through eternity! Eternity, too short to speak thy praise! Or fathom thy profound of love to man!— filed under God
Great let me call him, for he conquered me.— filed under Grief
High stations, tumult, but not bliss, create; None think the great unhappy, but the great.— filed under Grief
A land of levity is a land of guilt.— filed under Hair
True happiness ne'er entered at an eye; True happiness resides in things unseen.— filed under Happiness
Heaven's Sovereign saves all beings but himself, That hideous sight, a naked human heart.— filed under Heart
Who, for the poor renown of being smart, Would leave a sting within a brother's heart?— filed under Heart
Chapel, Cambridge. The man who builds, and wants wherewith to pay, Provides a home from which to run away.— filed under Honesty
Hope, like a cordial, innocent, though strong, Man's heart, at once, inspirits, and serenes; Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys.— filed under Hope
A man I knew who lived upon a smile, And well it fed him; he look'd plump and fair, While rankest venom foam'd through every vein.— filed under Ignorance
'Tis immortality, 'tis that alone, Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness, The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill. That only, and that amply this performs. C.— filed under Immortality
He that's ungrateful, has no guilt but one; All other crimes may pass for virtues in him.— filed under Ingratitude
Pope's trans. Ah, how unjust to Nature and himself Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man!— filed under Injustice
Joys season'd high, and tasting strong of guilt.— filed under Joy
Where nature's end of language is declined, And men talk only to conceal the mind.— filed under Language
Laugh and the world laughs with you. ELLA WHEELER WILCox-Solitude. Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt; And every Grin, so merry, draws one out. JOHN WOLCOTT (Peter Pindar)- Expostulatory Odes. Ode 15. The house of laughter makes a house of woe.— filed under Laughter
Much learning shows how little mortals know; Much wealth, how little worldings can enjoy. S.— filed under Leisure
Were man to live coeval with the sun, The patriarch-pupil would be learning still.— filed under Leisure
Leisure is pain; take off our chariot wheels, How heavily we drag the load of life! Blest leisure is our curse; like that of Cain, It makes us wander, wander earth around To fly that tyrant, thought.— filed under Leisure
And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb: Our birth is nothing but our death begun.— filed under Life
For what are men who grasp at praise sublime, But bubbles on the rapid stream of time, That rise, and fall, that swell, and are no more, Born, and forgot, ten thousand in an hour?— filed under Life
Still seems it strange, that thou shouldst live forever? Is it less strange, that thou shouldst live at all? This is a miracle; and that no more.— filed under Life
That life is long, which answers life's great end. C.— filed under Life
On all important time, thro' ev'ry age, Tho' much, and warm, the wise have urged; the man Is yet unborn, who duly weighs an hour, "I've lost a day"-the prince who nobly cried Had been an emperor without his crown; Of Rome? say rather, lord of human race.— filed under Love
Ah! how unjust to nature, and himself, Is thoughtless, thankless, inconsistent man.— filed under Man
How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man! How passing wonder He, who made him such!— filed under Man
The man of wisdom is the man of years.— filed under Man
Body and soul, like peevish man and wife, United jar, and yet are loth to part.— filed under Matrimony
Accept a miracle instead of wit, - See two dull lines with Stanhope's pencil writ.— filed under Miracle
Pencil of Lord Chesterfield. What is a miracle? - 'Tis a reproach, 'Tis an implicit satire on mankind; And while it satisfies, it censures too.— filed under Miracle
Woes cluster; rare are solitary woes; They love a train, they tread each other's heel.— filed under Moderation
At thirty, man suspects himself a fool, Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan; At fifty, chides his infamous delay, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve, In all the magnanimity of thought; Resolves, and re-resolves, then dies the same. And why? because he thinks himself immortal, All men think all men mortal but themselves.— filed under Motherhood
Man wants but little, nor that little long; How soon must he resign his very dust, Which frugal nature lent him for an hour!— filed under Motherhood
He mourns the dead who lives as they desire.— filed under Murder
One to destroy is murder by the law, And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe; To murder thousands takes a specious name, War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame.— filed under Murder
the Subjugation of Switzerland. In distant wilds, by human eyes unseen, She rears her flowers, and spreads her velvet green; Pure gurgling rills the lonely desert trace And waste their music on the savage race.— filed under Necessity
Nothing in Nature, much less conscious being, Was e'er created solely for itself.— filed under Necessity
Such blessings Nature pours, O'erstock'd mankind enjoy but half her stores. S.— filed under Necessity
The course of Nature is the art of God.— filed under Necessity
How is night's sable mantle labor'd o'er, How richly wrought with attributes divine! What wisdom shines! what love! this midnight pomp, This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlaid Built with divine ambition!— filed under Night
Mine is the night, with all her stars.— filed under Night
Night, sable goddess! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumbering world. Silence, how dead! and darkness, how profound! Nor eye, nor list'ning ear, an object finds; Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and nature made a pause; An awful pause! prophetic of her end.— filed under Night
Titles are marks of honest men, and wise: The fool or knave that wears a title lies.— filed under Oaths
O how loud It calls devotion! genuine growth of night! Devotion! daughter of Astronomy! An undevout Astronomer is mad.— filed under Occupations-Alchemy
An author! 'tis a venerable name! How few deserve it, and what numbers claim! Unbless'd with sense above their peers refined, Who stand up dictators to mankind? Nay, who dare shine, if not in virtue's cause That sole proprietor of just applause.— filed under Occupations-Authorship
Some write, confin'd by physic; some, by debt; Some, for 'tis Sunday; some, because 'tis wet; * * * * * * Another writes because his father writ, And proves himself a bastard by his wit.— filed under Occupations-Authorship
S. Moore at Carunna. St. 3. Some for hard masters, broken under arms, In battle lopt away, with half their limbs, Beg bitter bread thro' realms their valour saved.— filed under Occupations-Navigation
Deep. Ocean into tempest wrought, To waft a feather, or to drown a fly. S.— filed under Opinion
A man of pleasure is a man of pains.— filed under Pain
But fate ordains that dearest friends must part.— filed under Parting
That awful independent on to-morrow! Whose work is done; who triumphs in the past; Whose yesterdays look backward with a smile Nor, like the Parthian, wound him as they fly. S.— filed under Patience
Kallundborg Church. Ne'er to meet, or ne'er to part, is peace.— filed under Peace
of Pleasure. Sure as night follows day, Death treads in Pleasure's footsteps round the world, When Pleasure treads the paths which Reason shuns.— filed under Pleasure
To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain.— filed under Pleasure
There is in Poesy a decent pride, Which well becomes her when she speaks to Prose, Her younger sister.— filed under Poetry
Who murders Time, he crushes in the birth a power ethereal.— filed under Power
before Content. I grant the man is vain who writes for praise. Praise no man e'er deserved who sought no more. aa.— filed under Praise
The love of praise, howe'er conceal'd by art, Reigns more or less, and glows, in ev'ry heart.— filed under Praise
Oh, how portentous is prosperity! How comet-like, it threatens while it shines.— filed under Prosperity
Whitehed's Motto on his Coach. Some, for renown, on scraps of learning dote, And think they grow immortal as they quote.— filed under Rain
And what is reason? Be she thus defined : L. 40. Reason is upright stature in the soul.— filed under Viii
Reason progressive, Instinct is complete; Swift Instinct leaps; slow reason feebly climbs. Brutes soon their zenith reach. *** In ages they no more Could know, do, covet or enjoy. Were man to live coeval with the sun, The patriarch pupil would be learning still.— filed under Viii
A soul without reflection, like a pile Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.— filed under Reflection
But if man loses all, when life is lost, He lives a coward, or a fool expires. A daring infidel (and such there are, From pride, example, lucre, rage, revenge, Or pure heroical defect of thought), Of all earth's madmen, most deserves a chain.— filed under Remorse
Religion's all. Descending from the skies To wretched man, the goddess in her left Holds out this world, and, in her right, the next.— filed under Remorse
Column. Last line. The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.— filed under Results
I see the Judge enthroned; the flaming guard: The volume open'd!-open'd every heart!— filed under Retribution
Shall man alone, for whom all else revives, No resurrection know? Shall man alone, Imperial man! be sown in barren ground, Less privileged than grain, on which he feeds?— filed under Retribution
Souls made of fire and children of the sun, With whom Revenge is virtue.— filed under Reverence
A partial world will listen to my lays, While Anna reigns, and sets a female name Unrival'd in the glorious lists of fame.— filed under Ruin
Final Ruin fiercely drives Her ploughshare o'er creation.— filed under Ruin
'Tis impious in a good man to be sad.— filed under Sadness
The mightier man, the mightier is the thing What makes him honour'd, or begets him hate; For greatest scandal waits on greatest state. Lucrece. L. 1,004. He rams his quill with scandal and with scoff, But 'tis so very foul, it won't go off.— filed under Scandal
'Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours; And ask them what report they bore to heaven: And how they might have borne more welcome news.— filed under Self-Love
Sense is our helmet, wit is but the plume; The plume exposes, 'tis our helmet saves. Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound; When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam; Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still.— filed under Sense
What, is Brutus sick, And will he steal out of his wholesome bed, To dare the vile contagion of the night? Julius Cæsar. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 263. I've known my lady (for she loves a tune) For fevers take an opera in June: And, though perhaps you'll think the practice bold, A midnight park is sov'reign for a cold.— filed under Sickness
Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and nature made a pause.— filed under Sleep
Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where fortune smiles; the wretched he forsakes.— filed under Sleep
I feel in every smile a chain. S. JOHN WOLCOtt (Peter Pindar)- Pindariana. A tender smile, our sorrows' only balm.— filed under Snow
S. O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, Lost to the noble sallies of the soul! Who think it solitude to be alone.— filed under Solitude
O sacred solitude! divine retreat! Choice of the prudent! envy of the great, By thy pure stream, or in thy waving shade, We court fair wisdom, that celestial maid.— filed under Solitude
This sacred shade and solitude, what is it? 'Tis the felt presence of the Deity, Few are the faults we flatter when alone.— filed under Solitude
Woes cluster; rare are solitary woes; They love a train, they tread each other's heel.— filed under Sorrow
the Queen of Bohemia. Hence Heaven looks down on earth with all her eyes.— filed under Stars
One sun by day, by night ten thousand shine; And light us deep into the Deity; How boundless in magnificence and might.— filed under Stars
Who rounded in his palm these spacious orbs * * * * * * Numerous as glittering gems of morning dew, Or sparks from populous cities in a blaze, And set the bosom of old night on fire.— filed under Stars
For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme, Nor take her tea without a stratagem.— filed under Strategy
Lorenzo! hast thou ever weigh'd a sigh? Or studied the philosophy of tears?- * * * * * * Hast thou descended deep into the breast, And seen their source? If not, descend with me, And trace these briny riv'lets to their springs.— filed under Temperance
Knocks at our hearts, and finds our thoughts at home.— filed under Cxii
Creed. In records that defy the tooth of time.— filed under Time
Nought treads so silent as the foot of Time; our Hence we mistake our autumn for our prime. V. prime. C.— filed under Time
Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled, moment leaves And to the mercies of a moment leaves The vast concerns of an eternal scene.— filed under Time
The bell strikes one. We take no note of time But from its loss: to give it then a tongue Is wise in man.— filed under Time
Time is eternity; Pregnant with all eternity can give; Pregnant with all that makes archangels smile. . Who murders Time, he crushes in the birth A power ethereal, only not adorn'd— filed under Time
Time wasted is existence, used is life.— filed under Time
We push time from us, and we wish him back; * * * * * * Life we think long and short; death seek and shun.— filed under Time
We see time's furrows on another's brow, * * * * * * How few themselves in that just mirror see! Night V.— filed under Time
While man is growing, life is in decrease, the tomb; And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb Our birth is nothing but our death begun.— filed under Time
In human hearts what bolder thoughts can rise, Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn! Where is to-morrow?— filed under To-Morrow
To-morrow is a satire on to-day, And shows its weakness. S.— filed under To-Morrow
Is there a tongue like Delia's o'er her cup, That runs for ages without winding up?— filed under Tongues
Think nought a trifle, though it small appear; Small sands the mountain, moments make the year.— filed under Trifles
Truth never was indebted to a lie.— filed under Truth
To Virtue's humblest son let none prefer Vice, though descended from the conqueror.— filed under Virtue
Virtue alone outbuilds the pyramids : Her monuments shall last, when Egypt's fall.— filed under Virtue
But shapes that come not at an earthly call, Will not depart when mortal voices bid. V. Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!— filed under Voice
Can wealth give happiness? look round and see What gay distress! what splendid misery! Whatever fortunes lavishly can pour, The mind annihilates, and calls for more.— filed under Wealth
Much learning shows how little mortals know; Much wealth, how little worldlings can enjoy.— filed under Wealth
Be wise with speed; A fool at forty is a fool indeed.— filed under Wisdom
But wisdom, awful wisdom! which inspects, Discerns, compares, weighs, separates, infers, Seizes the right, and holds it to the last.— filed under Wisdom
On every thorn, delightful wisdom grows, In every rill a sweet instruction flows.— filed under Wisdom
Teach me my days to number, and apply My trembling heart to wisdom.— filed under Wisdom
Wisdom, though richer than Peruvian mines, And sweeter than the sweet ambrosial hive, What is she, but the means of happiness? That unobtain'd, than folly more a fool.— filed under Wisdom
Satire 6. Like our shadows, Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.— filed under Wit
Hunting. Against their wills what numbers ruin shun, Purely through want of wit to be undone! Nature has shown by making it so rare, That wit's a jewel which we need not wear.— filed under Wit
of Delight. And beautiful as sweet! And young as beautiful! and soft as young! And gay as soft! and innocent as gay.— filed under Woman
miles above Tintern Abbey. ? Let not the cooings of the world allure thee; Which of her lovers ever found her true— filed under Worship
Youth is not rich in time; it may be poor; Part with it as with money, sparing; pay No moment but in purchase of its worth, And what it's worth, ask death-beds; they can tell.— filed under Zeal