No ornament of a house can compare with books; they are constant company in a room, even when you are not reading them.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWEIn the gates of eternity the black hand and the white hand hold each other with equal clasp.
More Harriet Beecher Stowe Quotes
-
-
Eyes that have never wept cannot comprehend sorrow.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
Dogs can bear more cold than human beings, but they do not like cold any better than we do; and when a dog has his choice, he will very gladly stretch himself on a rug before the fire for his afternoon nap.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
True love ennobles and dignifies the material labors of life; and homely services rendered for love’s sake have in them a poetry that is immortal.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
So subtle is the atmosphere of opinion that it will make itself felt without words.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
We should remember in our dealings with animals that they are a sacred trust to us from our Heavenly Father. They are dumb and cannot speak for themselves.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
Intemperance in eating is one of the most fruitful of all causes of disease and death.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
Love is very beautiful, but very, very sad.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
It is one mark of a superior mind to understand and be influenced by the superiority of others.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
Common sense is seeing things as they are; and doing things as they ought to be.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
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 STOWE -
There is more done with pens than with swords.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
The Negro is an exotic of the most gorgeous and superb countries of the world, and he has deep in his heart a passion for all that is splendid, rich and fanciful.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
If I am to write, I must have a room to myself, which shall be my room.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
Money is a great help everywhere; – can’t have too much, if you get it honestly.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE -
The heart has no tears to give,–it drops only blood, bleeding itself away in silence.
HARRIET BEECHER STOWE