There is the cause for pleasure and for pain: But music moves us, and we know not why? We feel the tears, but cannot trace their source. Is it the language of some other state, Born of its memory! For… — Letitia Elizabeth Landon Copy Share Image
Music is the language of some other state, born of memory. For what can wake the soul's strong instinct of some other world like music? — Letitia Elizabeth Landon Copy Share Image
Alas! we makeA ladder of our thoughts, where angels step,But sleep ourselves at the foot: our high resolvesLook down upon our slumbering acts. — Letitia Elizabeth Landon Copy Share Image
Imagination is to love what gas is to the balloon-that which raises it from earth. — Letitia Elizabeth Landon Copy Share Image
I think hearts are very much like glasses. If they do not break with the first ring, they usually last a considerable time. — Letitia Elizabeth Landon Copy Share Image
the fact is, that life is too short to be occupied by aught but the present - hope and remembrance are equally a waste… — Letitia Elizabeth Landon Copy Share Image
There is no existence so content as that whose present is engrossed by employment, and whose future is filled by some strong hope, the… — Letitia Elizabeth Landon Copy Share Image
Toil is the portion of day, as sleep is that of night; but if there be one hour of the twenty-four which has the… — Letitia Elizabeth Landon Copy Share Image
Consistency is a human word, but it certainly expresses nothing human. — Letitia Elizabeth Landon Copy Share Image
We would liken music to Aladdin's lamp — worthless in itself, not so for the spirits which obey its call. We love it for… — Letitia Elizabeth Landon Copy Share Image
There is a large stock on hand; but somehow or other, nobody's experience ever suits us but our own. — Letitia Elizabeth Landon Copy Share Image
