We may taste of every turn of chance - now rule as Kings, now serve as Slaves; now love, now hate; now prosper, and now perish. But still, through all, we are the same; for this is the marvel of… — H. Rider Haggard Copy Share Image
The food that memory gives to eat is bitter to the taste, and it is only with the teeth of hope that we can bear to bite it. — 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
