My garden, with its silence and pulses of fragrance that come and go on the airy undulations, affects me like sweet music. Care stops at the gates, and gazes at me wistfully through the bars. — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
Eternity doth wear upon her face the veil of time. They only see the veil, and thus they know not what they stand so… — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
There is a certain even-handed justice in Time; and for what he takes away he gives us something in return. He robs us of… — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
Thoughts must come naturally, like wild-flowers; they cannot be forced in a hot-bed, even although aided by the leaf-mould of your past. — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October, when the trees are bare… — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
The globe has been circumnavigated, but no man ever yet has; you may survey a kingdom and note the result in maps, but all… — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines. — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
And in any case, to the old man, when the world becomes trite, the triteness arises not so much from a cessation as from… — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
In my garden, care stops at the gate and gazes at me wistfully through the bars. — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
The spot of ground on which a man has stood is forever interesting to him. — Alexander Smith Copy Share Image
