Leigh Hunt Quotes

Affection, Like Melancholy, Magnifies Trifles; But The Magnifying Of The One Is Like Looking Through A Telescope At Heavenly Objects; That Of The Other, Like Enlarging Monsters With A Microscope.

Many Birds And Beasts Are...as Fit To Go To Heaven As Many Human Beings - People Who Talk Of Their Seats There With As Much Confidence As If They Had Booked Them At A Box Office.

Christmas Is The Glorious Time Of Great Too-much.

Central Depth Of Purple, Leaves More Bright Than Rose, Who Shall Tell What Brightest Thought Out Of Darkness Grows? Who, Through What Funereal Pain, Souls To Love And Peace Attain? - Leigh Hunt (james Henry Leigh Hunt

Colors Are The Smiles Of Nature. When They Are Extremely Smiling, And Break Forth Into Other Beauty Besides, They Are Her Laughs.

O Scaly, Slippery, Wet, Swift, Staring Wights, What Is 't Ye Do? What Life Lead? Eh, Dull Goggles? How Do Ye Vary Your Vile Days And Nights? How Pass Your Sundays? Are Ye Still But Joggles In Ceaseless Wash? Still Nought But Gapes And Bites, And Drinks, And Stares, Diversified With Boggles.

Anglers Boast Of The Innocence Of Their Pastime; Yet It Puts Fellow-creatures To The Torture. They Pique Themselves On Their Meditative Faculties; And Yet Their Only Excuse Is A Want Of Thought.

Tears And Sorrows And Losses Are A Part Of What Must Be Experienced In This Present State Of Life: Some For Our Manifest Good, And Ail, Therefore, It Is Trusted, For Our Good Concealed;--for Our Final And Greatest Good.

We Really Cannot See What Equanimity There Is In Jerking A Lacerated Carp Out Of The Water By The Jaws, Merely Because It Has No The Power Of Making A Noise; For We Presume That The Most Philosophic Of Anglers Would Hardly Delight In Catching A Shrieking Fish.

The Perfection Of Conversational Intercourse Is When The Breeding Of High Life Is Animated By The Fervor Of Genius.

The Last Excessive Feelings Of Delight Are Always Grave.

Wit Is The Clash And Reconcilement Of Incongruities; The Meeting Of Extremes Round A Corner.