Helen Hunt Jackson Quotes & Sayings

If I can do one hundredth part for the Indian that Mrs. Stowe did for the Negro, I will be thankful. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Great loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever died dropped dead. — Helen Hunt Jackson

On the king's gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They call'd him dead; And made his eldest son, one day, Slave in his father's stead. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Stain my eyes as I may, on all sides all is black. — Helen Hunt Jackson

The new is older than the old;
And newest friend is oldest friend in this:
That, waiting him, we longest grieved to miss
One thing we sought. — Helen Hunt Jackson

But undying memories stood like sentinels in her breast. When the notes of doves, calling to each other, fell on her ear, her eyes sought the sky, and she heard a voice saying, Majella! — Helen Hunt Jackson

Ah, March! we know thou art Kind-hearted,
spite of ugly looks and threats,
And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets! — Helen Hunt Jackson

One of Dr. Johnson's ingredients of happiness was, "A little less time than you want." That means always to have so many things you want to see, to have, and to do, that no day is quite long enough for all you think you would like to get done before you go to bed. — Helen Hunt Jackson

As soon as I began, it seemed impossible to write fast enough - I wrote faster than I would write a letter - two thousand to three thousand words in a morning, and I cannot help it. — Helen Hunt Jackson

The wild mustard in Southern California is like that spoken of in the New Testament ... Its gold is as distinct a value to the eye as the nugget gold is in the pocket. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Who longest waits most surely wins. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Will not the Senorita trust me?"
Ramona smiled faintly through her tears. "Yes," she said. "I will trust you. You are Alessandro, are you not?"
"Yes, Senorita," he answered, greatly surprised, "I am Alessandro. — Helen Hunt Jackson

When the baby dies, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud. The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed That men's eyes might not see Her misery. — Helen Hunt Jackson

When love is at its best, one loves so much that he cannot forget. — Helen Hunt Jackson

If I could write a story that would do for the Indian one-hundredth part what 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' did for the Negro, I would be thankful the rest of my life. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Who longest wait of all surely wins. — Helen Hunt Jackson

But all lost things are in the angels' keeping, Love; No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love; The years of Heaven with all earth's little pain Make Good Together there we can begin again, In babyhood. — Helen Hunt Jackson

O month when they who love must love and wed. — Helen Hunt Jackson

The goldenrod is yellow,
The corn is turning brown ...
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Most men call fretting a minor fault, a foible, and not a vice. There is no vice except drunkenness which can so utterly destroy the peace, the happiness of a hoe. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Words are less needful to sorrow than to joy. — Helen Hunt Jackson

I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Like a blind spinner in the sun,I tread my days:I know that all the threads will runAppointed ways.I know each day will bring its task,And being blind no more I ask. — Helen Hunt Jackson

O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind. — Helen Hunt Jackson

There is nothing so skillful in its own defense as imperious pride. — Helen Hunt Jackson

We have flattered ourselves by inventing proverbs of comparison in matter of blindness,
"blind as a bat," for instance. It would be safe to say that there cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range of circumstance and connection, as the greater majority of human beings are in the bosoms of their families. Tempers strain and recover, hearts break and heal, strength falters, fails, and comes near to giving way altogether, every day, without being noted by the closest lookers-on. — Helen Hunt Jackson

The woman who creates and sustains a home, and under whose hands children grow up to be strong and pure men and women, is a creator second only to God. — Helen Hunt Jackson

For April sobs while these are so glad April weeps while these are so gay,- Weeps like a tired child who had, Playing with flowers, lost its way. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what's in a name? — Helen Hunt Jackson

But pride carries its banner to the last; and fast as it is driven from one field unfurls it in another, never admitting that there is a shade less honor in the second field than in the first, or in the third than in the second; and so on till death. — Helen Hunt Jackson

There cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range of circumstance and connection, as the greater majority of human beings are in the bosoms of their families. — Helen Hunt Jackson

O May, sweet-voice one, going thus before, Forever June may pour her warm red wine Of life and passions,
sweeter days are thine! — Helen Hunt Jackson

Love has a tide! — Helen Hunt Jackson

Motherhood is priced Of God, at price no man may dare To lessen or misunderstand. — Helen Hunt Jackson

The voice of one who goes before, to makeThe paths of June more beautiful, is thineSweet May! — Helen Hunt Jackson

Next time! In what calendar are kept the records of those next times which never come? — Helen Hunt Jackson

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer. — Helen Hunt Jackson

O bees, sweet bees!" I said; "that nearest field Is shining white with fragrant immortelles Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells. — Helen Hunt Jackson

When Time is spent, Eternity begins. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Nothing can be so bad as to be displeased with one's self ... — Helen Hunt Jackson

I shall be found with 'Indians' engraved on my brain when I am dead. A fire has been kindled within me, which will never go out. — Helen Hunt Jackson

There had been no crises of incident, or marked movements of experience such as in Felipe's imaginations of love were essential to the fulness of its growth. This is a common mistake on the part of those who have never felt love's true bonds. Once in those chains, one perceives that they are not of the sort full forged in a day. They are made as the great iron cables are made, on which bridges are swung across the widest water-channels,
not of single huge rods, or bars, which would be stronger, perhaps, to look at; but myriads of the finest wires, each one by itself so fine, so frail, it would barely hold a child's kite in the wind: by hundreds, hundreds of thousands of such, twisted, re-twisted together, are made the mighty cables, which do not any more swerve from their place in the air, under the weight and jar of the ceaseless traffic and tread of two cities, than the solid earth swerves under the same ceaseless weight and jar. Such cables do not break. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white;
And reigns the winter's pregnant silence still;
No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill,
And willow stems grow daily red and bright.
These are days when ancients held a rite
Of expiation for the old year's ill,
And prayer to purify the new year's will. — Helen Hunt Jackson

Who waits until the wind shall silent keep Will never find the ready hour to sow. — Helen Hunt Jackson