Genius does what it must, and Talent does what it can.
Edward Robert Bulwer-Lytton (1831 - 1891)
Source: pseudonym: Owen Meredith, Poems. Last Words of a Sensitive Second-Rate Poet
Contributed by: Zaady
Every man who observes vigilantly and resolves steadfastly grows unconsciously into genius.
Source: pseudonym: Owen Meredith
We are but the instruments of heaven; our work is not design but destiny.
Source: pseudonym: Owen Meredith,
Love thou the rose, yet leave it on its stem.
Source: pseudonym: Owen Meredith, The Wanderer
The world's a nettle; disturb it, it stings: Grasp it firmly, it stings not.
Source: Lucile, 1860
When people have no other tyrant, their own public opinion becomes one.
No life can be pure in its purpose, and strong in its strife, and all life not be purer and stronger thereby.
Remorse is the echo of a lost virtue.
Source: pseudonym: Owen Meredith, Lucile
Since we parted yester eve, I do love thee, love, believe, Twelve times dearer, twelve hours longer,- One dream deeper, one night stronger, One sun surer,-thus much more Than I loved thee, love, before.
Source: pseudonym: Owen Meredith, Since We Parted
Sorrows humanize our race; tears are the showers that fertilize the world.
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