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Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan, Sorrow calls no time that 's gone; Violets plucked, the sweetest rain Makes not fresh nor grow again.
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John Gould Fletcher
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John Gould Fletcher
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Deeds, not words shall speak me.
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John Gould Fletcher
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John Gould Fletcher
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Death hath so many doors to let out life.
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John Gould Fletcher
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John Gould Fletcher
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He never is alone that is accompanied with noble thoughts.
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John Gould Fletcher
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John Gould Fletcher
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O woman, perfect woman! what distraction Was meant to mankind when thou wast made a devil!
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John Gould Fletcher
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John Gould Fletcher
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Go far -- too far you cannot, still the farther. The more experience finds you: and go sparing. One meal a week will serve you, and one suit, Through all your travels; for you'll find it certain. The poorer and the baser you appear, The more you look through still.
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John Gould Fletcher
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John Gould Fletcher
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Man is his own star; and the soul that can Render an honest and a perfect man Commands all light, all influence, all fate. Nothing to him falls early, or too late. Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
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John Gould Fletcher
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John Gould Fletcher
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