Those forms we fancy shadows, those strange lights That flash on dank morasses, the quick wind That smites us by the roadside—are the Night's Innumerable children. Unconfined By shroud or coffin, disembodied souls, Uneasy spirits, steal into the air From… — Thomas Bailey Aldrich Copy Share Image
Come watch with me the shaft of fire that glows in yonder West; the fair, frail palaces, The fading Alps and archipelagoes and great cloud continents of sunset-seas. — 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
