I am one of the sort that lives by throwing stones at other people’s glass houses, but I never mean to put up one for them to stone.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWEIt is impossible to make anything beautiful or desirable in the best regulated administration of slavery.
More Harriet Beecher Stowe Quotes
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Scenes of blood and cruelty are shocking to our ear and heart. What man has nerve to do, man has not nerve to hear.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
It isn’t mere love and good-will that is needed in a sick-room; it needs knowledge and experience.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life’s undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
There is more done with pens than with swords.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
If we let our friend become cold and selfish and exacting without a remonstrance, we are no true lover, no true friend.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
General rules will bear hard on particular cases.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
What makes saintliness in my view, as distinguished from ordinary goodness, is a certain quality of magnanimity and greatness of soul that brings life within the circle of the heroic.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
I did not write it. God wrote it. I merely did his dictation.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
Many a humble soul will be amazed to find that the seed it sowed in weakness, in the dust of daily life, has blossomed into immortal flowers under the eye of the Lord.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
All men are free and equal in the grave, if it comes to that.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
O, what an untold world there is in one human heart!
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
Let us resolve: First, to attain the grace of silence; second, to deem all fault finding that does no good a sin; third, to practice the grade and virtue of praise.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
The truth is the kindest thing we can give folks in the end.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
Fanaticism is governed by imagination rather than judgment.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
It lies around us like a cloud- A world we do not see; Yet the sweet closing of an eye May bring us there to be.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE






