Happiness is not a matter of events; it depends upon the tides of the mind.
About Alice Meynell
Alice Christiana Gertrude Meynellwas a British writer, editor, critic, and suffragist, now remembered mainly as a poet. She was considered for the position of Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom twice, first in 1892 on the death of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, and later in 1913 on the death of Alfred Austin, but was never appointed to the position.
More quotes from Alice Meynell
Our fathers valued change for the sake of its results; we value it in the act.
English publisher, editor, writer, poet, activist (1847-1922)
The sense of humor has other things to do than to make itself conspicuous in the act of laughter.
English publisher, editor, writer, poet, activist (1847-1922)
A child is beset with long traditions. And his infancy is so old, so old, that the mere adding of years in the life to follow will not seem to throw it further back – it is already so far.
English publisher, editor, writer, poet, activist (1847-1922)
Happiness is not a matter of events; it depends upon the tides of the mind.
English publisher, editor, writer, poet, activist (1847-1922)
It is easy to replace man, and it will take no great time, when Nature has lapsed, to replace Nature.
English publisher, editor, writer, poet, activist (1847-1922)
If there is a look of human eyes that tells of perpetual loneliness, so there is also the familiar look that is the sign of perpetual crowds.
English publisher, editor, writer, poet, activist (1847-1922)
The true color of life is the color of the body, the color of the covered red, the implicit and not explicit red of the living heart and the pulses. It is the modest color of the unpublished blood.
English publisher, editor, writer, poet, activist (1847-1922)
Let a man turn to his own childhood – no further – if he will renew his sense of remoteness, and of the mystery of change.
English publisher, editor, writer, poet, activist (1847-1922)
Spirit of place! It is for this we travel, to surprise its subtlety; and where it is a strong and dominant angel, that place, seen once, abides entire in the memory with all its own accidents, its habits, its breath, its name.
English publisher, editor, writer, poet, activist (1847-1922)
The true colour of life is the colour of the body, the colour of the covered red, the implicit and not explicit red of the living heart and the pulses. It is the modest colour of the unpublished blood.
English publisher, editor, writer, poet, activist (1847-1922)