Ella Wheeler Wilcox

"Love lights more fires than hate extinguishes And men grow better as the world grows old."

"Talk happiness. The world is sad enough without your woe. No path is wholly rough."

"Laugh and the world laughs with you weep and you weep alone."

"We flatter those we scarcely know We please the fleeting guest And deal full many a thoughtless blow To those who love us best."

"All love that has not friendship for its base Is like a mansion built upon the sand."

"All love that has not friendship for its base is like a mansion built upon the sand."

"All love that has not friendship for its base is like a mansion built upon the sand."

"No question is ever settled until it is settled right."

"Change is the watchword of progression. When we tire of well-worn ways we seek for new. This restless craving in the souls of men spurs them to climb and to seek the mountain view."

"Whatever is-is best."

"Moon and Sea You are the moon, dear love, and I the sea:The tide of hope swells high within my breast,And hides the rough dark rocks of life's unrest When your fond eyes smile near in perigee. But when that loving face is turned from me,Low falls the tide, and the grim rocks appear,And earth's dim coast-line seems a thing to fear. You are the moon, dear one, and I the sea."

"Why, even Death stands still and waits an hour for such a will."

"I love your lips when they're wet with wine and red with wicked desire"

"In time the earth will be inhabited by almost god-like beings who shall analyze and discuss the remnants of humanity as we now discuss the chimpanzee."

"To sin by silence, when they should protest, makes cowards of men."

"All Mad"'He is mad as a hare, poor fellow, And should be in chains,' you say,I haven't a doubt of your statement, But who isn't mad, I pray?Why, the world is a great asylum, And the people are all insane,Gone daft with pleasure or folly, Or crazed with passion and pain. The infant who shrieks at a shadow, The child with his Santa Claus faith,The woman who worships Dame Fashion, Each man with his notions of death,The miser who hoards up his earnings, The spendthrift who wastes them too soon,The scholar grown blind in his delving, The lover who stares at the moon. The poet who thinks life a paean, The cynic who thinks it a fraud,The youth who goes seeking for pleasure, The preacher who dares talk of God,All priests with their creeds and their croaking, All doubters who dare to deny,The gay who find aught to wake laughter, The sad who find aught worth a sigh,Whoever is downcast or solemn, Whoever is gleeful and gay,Are only the dupes of delusions— We are all of us—all of us mad."

"After the fierce midsummer all ablaze Has burned itself to ashes, and expires In the intensity of its own fires,There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze. So after Love has led us, till he tires Of his own throes, and torments, and desires,Comes large-eyed friendship: with a restful gaze,He beckons us to follow, and across Cool verdant vales we wander free from care. Is it a touch of frost lies in the air?Why are we haunted with a sense of loss?We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete"

"Advice"I must do as you do? Your way I own Is a very good way, and still,There are sometimes two straight roads to a town,One over, one under the hill. You are treading the safe and the well-worn way,That the prudent choose each time;And you think me reckless and rash to-day Because I prefer to climb. Your path is the right one, and so is mine. We are not like peas in a pod,Compelled to lie in a certain line,Or else be scattered abroad.'T were a dull old world, methinks, my friend,If we all just went one way;Yet our paths will meet no doubt at the end,Though they lead apart today. You like the shade, and I like the sun;You like an even pace,I like to mix with the crowd and run,And then rest after the race. I like danger, and storm, and strife,You like a peaceful time;I like the passion and surge of life,You like its gentle rhyme. You like buttercups, dewy sweet,And crocuses, framed in snow;I like roses, born of the heat,And the red carnation's glow. I must live my life, not yours, my friend,For so it was written down;We must follow our given paths to the end,But I trust we shall meet--in town."

"It is easy to tell the toiler How best he can carry his pack But no one can rate a burden's weight Until it has been on his back"

"Feast, and your halls are crowded Fast, and the world goes by Succeed and give, and it helps you live But no man can help you die"