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- Bret Harte: American short story writer and poet
Quotes 1 till 20 of 27.
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An hour ago, a Star was falling. A star? There's nothing strange in that. No, nothing; but above the thicket, Somehow it seemed to me that God Somewhere had just relieved a picket.
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And ever since then, when the clock strikes two, She walks unbidden from room to room, And the air is filled that she passes through With a subtle, sad perfume. The delicate odor of mignonette, The ghost of a dead and gone bouquet, Is all that tells of her story — yet Could she think of a sweeter way?
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And he says that the mountains are fairer For once being held in your thought;
East and West Poems, Part I His Answer to Her Letter -
And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor, And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more.
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And I hear from the outgoing ship in the bay The song of the sailors in glee: So I think of the luminous footprints that bore The comfort o'er dark Galilee, And wait for the signal to go to the shore, To the ship that is waiting for me.
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And then, for an old man like me, it's not exactly right,
This kind o' playing soldier with no enemy in sight.East and West Poems, Part I The Old Major Explains -
Beneath this tree lies the body of John Oakhurst, who struck a streak of bad luck on the 23rd of November, 1850, and handed in his checks on the 7th December, 1850.
The Outcasts of Poker Flat (1869) -
But still when the mists of doubt prevail, And we lie becalmed by the shores of age, We hear from the misty troubled shore The voce of children gone before. Drawing the soul to its anchorage.
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Don't be too quick
To break bad habits: better stick,
Like the Mission folk, to your arsenic.East and West Poems, Part I The Wonderful Spring of San Joaquin -
Fades the light, And afar Goeth day, cometh night, And a star Leadeth all Speedeth all To their rest.
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Hark! I hear the tramp of thousands, And of armed men the hum; Lo, a nation's hosts have gathered Round the quick alarming drum — Saying, Come Freemen, Come! Ere your heritage be wasted, Said the quick alarming drum.
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If of all words of tongue and pen, The saddest are, It might have been, More sad are those we daily see, It is, but it hadn't ought to be.
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Last night, above the whistling wind, I heard the welcome rain, — A fusillade upon the roof, A tattoo on the pane: The keyhole piped; the chimney-top A warlike trumpet blew.
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Later, when we were forced to accept the fact that finding gold was really the primary object of a gold-mining company, we still remained there
Captain Jims Friend. -
Never a lip is curved with pain That can't be kissed into smiles again.
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O'er the trackless past somewhere lie the lost days of our tropic youth.
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Of all the novels I've written, my favorite is 'Mick Harte Was Here'.
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Snow. Everywhere. As far as the eye could reach — fifty miles, looking southward from the highest peak.
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That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, The heathen Chinese is peculiar.
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The creator who could put a cancer in a believer's stomach is above being interfered with by prayers.
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