What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness, Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air. — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
What is lovely never dies, put passes into other loveliness. — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
No bird has ever uttered note That was not in some first bird's throat; Since Eden's freshness and man's fall No rose has been… — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
There is no man at once so unselfish and selfish as a man in love. — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
I have frequently noticed how circumstances conspire to help a man, or a boy, when he has thoroughly resolved on doing a thing. — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
Everywhere on the Continent, the tourist is looked upon as a bird to be plucked, and presently the bird himself feebly comes to regard… — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
Imagine all human beings swept off the face of the earth, excepting one man. Imagine this man in some vast city, New York or… — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
The possession of gold has ruined fewer men than the lack of it. — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
“..Fell over the prostrate steersman, and there we all lay in a heep, two or three of us quite picturesque with the nosebleed.” — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
A man should have duties outside of himself; without them, he is a mere balloon, inflated with thin egotism and drifting nowhere. — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
Great thoughts in crude, unshapely verse set forth lose half their preciousness, and ever must, unless the diamond with its own rich dust be… — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
So I sit there kicked my heels, thinking about New Orleans, and watching a morbid blue-bottle fly attempt to commit suicide by butting his… — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
What is more cheerful, now, in the fall of the year, than an open-wood-fire? Do you hear those little chirps and twitters coming out… — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
Decoration Day is the most beautiful of our national holidays… The grim cannon have turned into palm branches, and the shell and shrapnel into… — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
