Lucy Larcom Quotes - Page 2

• A su féretro Llega el año No con llanto y angustia, como los mortales, Sino, para guiar su camino hacia él, Todos los árboles tienen antorchas encendidas; Ardiendo en rojo los arces brillan los bosques a través.

  Lucy Larcom

  Otoño, Años, Brillante

  Lucy Larcom (1869). "Poemas", p.115

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• No estábamos destinados a enmascararnos ante nuestros semejantes, sino a ser, a través de nuestras formas humanas, verdaderas y claras expresiones del espíritu interior. Puesto que Dios nos dio estos cuerpos, deben habérsenos dado como guías hacia Él y reveladores de Él.

  Lucy Larcom

  Expresión, Cuerpo, Espíritu

  Lucy Larcom (1892). "El amigo invisible"

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• No depreciemos la Tierra. No hay átomo en ella que no esté vivo y agitado en el esplendor omnipenetrante de Dios. Desde lo infinitesimal hasta lo infinito, todo se esfuerza por expresar el pensamiento de Su Presencia con la que rebosa.

  Lucy Larcom

  Átomos, Vivos, Tierra

  Lucy Larcom (1892). "El amigo invisible"

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• Quien pretenda comprender por completo a otra persona, o bien se ignora por completo a sí mismo, o bien tiene una naturaleza tan pequeña que puede medirla fácilmente, y supone que es el patrón de cualquier otra naturaleza.

  Lucy Larcom

  Ignorantes, Reclamaciones, Normas

  Lucy Larcom (1892). "El amigo invisible"

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• Todo el mundo del pensamiento estaba inexplorado ante mí, un mundo del que ya había vislumbrado grandes y tentadores destellos.

  Lucy Larcom

  Aprendizaje, Inteligencia, Intelectual

  Lucy Larcom (1961). "Una infancia en Nueva Inglaterra"

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• A man may make a misanthrope of himself, but he is never one by nature.

  Lucy Larcom

  Men, May, Misanthrope

  Lucy Larcom (1892). "El amigo invisible"

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• Es el mayor de los errores comenzar la vida con la expectativa de que va a ser fácil, o con el deseo de que así sea.

  Lucy Larcom

  Error, Aprendizaje, Expectativas

  Lucy Larcom (1889). "A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory".

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• Some of us must wait for the best human gifts until we come to heavenly places. Our natural desire for musical utterance is perhaps a prophecy that in a perfect world we shall all know how to sing.

  Lucy Larcom

  Perfect, Waiting, Musical

  Lucy Larcom (1961). "Una infancia en Nueva Inglaterra"

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• Those who plant trees plant hope.

  Lucy Larcom

  Garden, Tree, Plant

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• A drop of water, if it could write out its own history, would explain the universe to us.

  Lucy Larcom

  Writing, Water, Ifs

  Lucy Larcom (1892). "El amigo invisible"

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• Tailor's work--the finishing of men's outside garments--was the "trade" learned most frequently by women in [the 1820s and 1830s],and one or more of my older sisters worked at it; I think it must have been at home, for I somehow or somewhere got the idea, while I was a small child, that the chief end of woman was to make clothing for mankind.

  Lucy Larcom

  Niños, Hogar, Hombres

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• Sometimes it seems to me that God 's way of dealing with me is not to let me see much of my friends, those who are most to me in the spiritual life, lest I should forget that the invisible bond is the only reality. That is the only way I can reconcile myself to the inevitable separations of life and death.

  Lucy Larcom

  Spiritual, Reality, Life And Death

  "Lucy Larcom : Life, Letters, and Diary" edited by Daniel Dulany Addison, (Ch. 12 : Last Years), 1895.

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• Everything in nature has its own intrinsic charm, as the work of its Creator's hand; but the chief beauty of the whole lies in its suggested relations to humanity. Things announce and wait for persons. The house would not have been thus beautifully built and furnished, except for an expected tenant.

  Lucy Larcom

  Lying, Hands, House

  Lucy Larcom (1892). "El amigo invisible"

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• The children with the streamlets sing, When April stops at last her weeping; And every happy growing thing Laughs like a babe just roused from sleeping.

  Lucy Larcom

  Children, Sleep, Laughing

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• Whether rich or poor, a home is not a home unless the roots of love are ever striking deeper through the crust of the earthly and the conventional, into the very realities of being, not consciously always; seldom, perhaps; the simplicity of loving grows by living simply near nature and God.

  Lucy Larcom

  Home, Reality, Rich Or Poor

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• June falls asleep upon her bier of flowers;
  In vain are dewdrops sprinkled o'er her,
  In vain would fond winds fan her back to life,
  Her hours are numbered on the floral dial.

  Lucy Larcom

  Summer, Fall, Flower

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• Canst thou prophesy, thou little tree, What the glory of thy boughs shall be?

  Lucy Larcom

  Tree, Littles, Glory

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• I believe the best poetry of our times is growing too artistic; the study is too visible. If freedom and naturalness are lost out of poetry, everything worth having is lost.

  Lucy Larcom

  Believe, Growing, Artistic

  "Lucy Larcom : Life, Letters, and Diary" edited by Daniel Dulany Addison, (Ch. 5 : The Beginning of the War), 1895.

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• A journal of the 'subjective' kind I have always thought foolish, as nurturing a morbid self -consciousness in the writer; and yet, alone so much as I am, it is well to have some sort of a ventilator from the interior.

  Lucy Larcom

  Self, Kind, Consciousness

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• Labor, in itself, is neither elevating or otherwise. It is the laborer's privilege to ennoble his work by the aim with which he undertakes it, and by the enthusiasm and faithfulness he puts into it.

  Lucy Larcom

  Enthusiasm, Privilege, Faithfulness

  Lucy Larcom (1875). “An Idyl of Work”, p.9

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• I remember how beautiful the Merrimac looked to me in childhood, the first true river I ever knew; it opened upon my sight and wound its way through my heart like a dream realized; its harebells, its rocks, and its rapids, are far more fixed in my memory than anything about the sea.

  Lucy Larcom

  Beautiful, Dream, Memories

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• The land is dearer for the sea, The ocean for the shore.

  Lucy Larcom

  Ocean, Sea, Land

  Lucy Larcom (1869). “Poems”, p.8

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• Cuando me enteré de que había artistas, deseé poder serlo alguna vez. Si pudiera hacer florecer una rosa sobre el papel, me sentiría feliz. O si por fin lograba dibujar el contorno de las ramas deshojadas por el invierno tal como las veía contra el cielo, me parecía que estaría dispuesta a pasar años intentándolo.

  Lucy Larcom

  Winter, Artist, Years

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• Una autobiografía completa sería, en efecto, un cuadro del universo exterior e interior fotografiado en la conciencia de una pequeña vida. Porque, ¿acaso el mundo entero, visto y no visto, no contribuye a la formación de cada ser humano?

  Lucy Larcom

  Unseen, Doe, World

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• To different minds, poetry may present different phases. To me, the reverent faith of the people I lived among, and their faithful everyday living, was poetry; blossoms and trees and blue shies were poetry. God himself was poetry.

  Lucy Larcom

  Blue, People, Tree

  Lucy Larcom (1961). "Una infancia en Nueva Inglaterra"

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