Remorse is the echo of a lost virtue.
Edward Robert Bulwer-Lytton (1831 - 1891)
Source: pseudonym: Owen Meredith, Lucile
Contributed by: Zaady
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.
The best teacher is the one who suggests rather than dogmatizes, and inspires his listener with the wish to teach himself.
Source: pseudonym: Owen Meredith,
We are our own fates.- Our deeds are our own doomsmen.- Man's life was made not for creeds but actions.-
Genius does what it must, and Talent does what it can.
Source: pseudonym: Owen Meredith, Poems. Last Words of a Sensitive Second-Rate Poet
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.
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
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