Religious bigotry is a dull fire - hot enough to roast an ox, but with no lambent, luminous flame shooting up from it. Sara Coleridge More Quotes by Sara Coleridge More Quotes From Sara Coleridge January brings the snow, makes our feet and fingers glow. Sara Coleridge januaryfeetsnow Hot July brings cooling showers, Sara Coleridge julysummerhot Much waste of words and of thought too would be avoided if disputants would always begin with a clear statement of the question, and not proceed to argue till they had agreed upon what it was that they were arguing about. Sara Coleridge wastewould-bearguing The Poplar grows up straight and tall, Sara Coleridge wallgrowing-updifferences Puns are often unacceptable to the feelings; they come like a spoonful of ice-cream in the midst of a comfortable smoking-hot steak, or as a peppery morsel when your palate was in expectation of a mild pudding. Sara Coleridge iceexpectationssmoking bubbles of false opinion will last whole ages, and deceive whole generations, till they are broken by some powerful breath, and even then how often they reunite, and again shine in the eyes of men, who hold them solid as cannon-balls! Sara Coleridge powerfuleyemen June brings tulips, lilies, roses, Sara Coleridge junesummerchildren April brings the primrose sweet, / Scatters daisies at our feet. Sara Coleridge aprilfeetsweet Life is the steam of the corporeal engine; the soul is the engineer who makes use of the steam-quickened engine. Sara Coleridge souluselife-is When I read or hear of the mutual injuries of England and Ireland, I fancy it would have been a blessed thing had the sea never flowed between the two countries. Had they been all in one, surely there would have been more unity between them of interests and of feelings. But let us hope that days of peace and general enlightenment will arrive by ways past man's finding out. Sara Coleridge blessedcountrypast The desire to be the object of public attention is weak, but the excessive dread of it is but a form of vanity and over-self-contemplativeness. Sara Coleridge vanityselfdesire Fresh October brings the pheasant, Sara Coleridge pheasantsoctobernuts I would have any one, who really and truly has leisure and ability, make verses. I think it a more refining and happy-making occupation than any other pastime accomplishment. Sara Coleridge leisureaccomplishmentthinking I don't pretend to any exemption from the general lot of parental delusion-I mean that like most other parents I see my child through an atmosphere which illuminates, magnifies, and at the same time refines the object to a degree that amounts to a delusion. Sara Coleridge parentmeanchildren Dull November brings the blast, Then the leaves are whirling fast. Sara Coleridge blastnovemberdull The death of my mother permanently affects my happiness, more even than I should have anticipated, though I always knew that I must feel the separation at first as a severe wrench. But I did not apprehend, during her life, to what a degree she prevented me from feeling heart-solitude. Sara Coleridge should-havemotherheart I very much wish that some day or other you may have time to learn Greek, because that language is an idea. Even a little of it is like manure to the soil of the mind, and makes it bear finer flowers. Sara Coleridge flowergreekideas It is remarkable what fine hands men of genius write, even when they are as awkward in all other uses of the hand as a cow with a musket. Sara Coleridge writingmenhands avarice is especially, I suppose, a disease of the imagination. Sara Coleridge greeddiseaseimagination Chill December brings the sleet, Blazing fire, and Christmas treat. Sara Coleridge decemberchillfire
