Time after time have nations, ay, and rich and strong nations, learned in the arts, been, and passed away to be forgotten,… — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
That which is alive hath known death, and that which is dead can never die, for in the Circle of the Spirit… — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
Yea, all things live forever, though at times they sleep and are forgotten. — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
Men and women, empires and cities, thrones, principalities, and powers, mountains, rivers, and unfathomed seas, worlds, spaces, and universes, all have their day, and… — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
“The moon grows black before your eyes; soon there will be darkness—ay, darkness in the hour of the full moon. Ye have asked for… — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
“Fourth reason and last: Because I am going to tell the strangest story that I remember. It may seem a queer thing to say,… — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
There is no loneliness like the loneliness of crowds, especially to those who are unaccustomed to them. — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
Mistrust all men, and slay him whom thou mistrustest overmuch; and as for women, flee from them, for they are evil, and in the… — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
As for the girl, since she is well favoured, she shall brew the king's beer, and be numbered amongst the king's wives-unless, indeed, he… — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
It is awkward to listen to oneself being praised, and I was always a shy man. — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
“The Garden of Eden, no doubt, looked fair before man was, but I always think that it must have been fairer when Eve adorned… — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
“Very good; then here we have it—'4 June, total eclipse of the moon commences at 8.15 Greenwich time, visible in Teneriffe—South Africa, &c.' There's… — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
Adventurer: he that goes to meet whatever may come. Well, that is what we all do in the world one way or another... — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
“Listen! What is life? It is a feather, it is the seed of the grass, blown hither and thither, sometimes multiplying itself and dying… — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
