The two divinest things this world has got,A lovely woman in a rural spot! Leigh Hunt More Quotes by Leigh Hunt More Quotes From Leigh Hunt Those who have lost an infant are never, as it were, without an infant child. Their other children grow up to manhood and womanhood, and suffer all the changes of mortality; but this one alone is rendered an immortal child; for death has arrested it with his kindly harshness, and blessed it into an eternal image of youth and innocence. Leigh Hunt growing-upblessedchildren Affection, like melancholy, magnifies trifles. Leigh Hunt triflesaffectionmelancholy To receive a present handsomely and in a right spirit, even when you have none to give in return, is to give one in return. Leigh Hunt returnappreciationgiving If you are ever at a loss to support a flagging conversation, introduce the subject of eating. Leigh Hunt huntinglossfood Fail not to call to mind, in the course of the twenty-fifth of this month, that the Divinest Heart that ever walked the earth was born on that day; and then smile and enjoy yourselves for the rest of it; for mirth is also of Heaven's making. Leigh Hunt christmasheartheaven One can love any man that is generous. Leigh Hunt generousgenerositymen Occupation is the necessary basis of all enjoyment. Leigh Hunt enjoymentoccupationbusy Stolen sweets are always sweeter, Stolen kisses much completer, Stolen looks are nice in chapels, Stolen, stolen be your apples. Leigh Hunt kissingnicesweet The more sensible a woman is, supposing her not to be masculine, the more attractive she is in her proportionate power to entertain. Leigh Hunt attractivemasculinesensible Green little vaulter, in the sunny grass, Catching your heart up at the feel of June, Sole noise that's heard amidst the lazy noon, When ev'n the bees lag at the summoning brass. Leigh Hunt lazyjuneheart The golden line is drawn between winter and summer. Behind all is blackness and darkness and dissolution. Before is hope, and soft airs, and the flowers, and the sweet season of hay; and people will cross the fields, reading or walking with one another; and instead of the rain that soaks death into the heart of green things, will be the rain which they drink with delight; and there will be sleep on the grass at midday, and early rising in the morning, and long moonlight evenings. Leigh Hunt summermorningsweet Danger for danger's sake is senseless. Leigh Hunt sakedanger If you become a Nun, dear, Leigh Hunt cupidbishopslife An exquisite invention this, Worthy of Love's most honeyed kiss,-- This art of writing billet-doux-- In buds, and odors, and bright hues! In saying all one feels and thinks In clever daffodils and pinks; In puns of tulips; and in phrases, Charming for their truth, of daisies. Leigh Hunt cleverwritingart It is a delicious moment, certainly, that of being well nestled in bed, and feeling that you shall drop gently to sleep. The good is to come, not past; the limbs have just been tired enough to render the remaining in one posture delightful; the labour of the day is gone Leigh Hunt tiredsleeppast Beauty too often sacrifices to fashion. The spirit of fashion is not the beautiful, but the wilful; not the graceful, but the fantastic; not the superior in the abstract, but the superior in the worst of all concretes,-the vulgar. Leigh Hunt fashionbeautifulbeauty We must regard all matter as an intrusted secret which we believe the person concerned would wish to be considered as such. Nay, further still, we must consider all circumstances as secrets intrusted which would bring scandal upon another if told. Leigh Hunt secretwishbelieve 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 Leigh Hunt purplepainrose Colors are the smiles of Nature. When they are extremely smiling, and break forth into other beauty besides, they are her laughs. Leigh Hunt colorbreaklaughing Fishes do not roar; they cannot express any sound of suffering; and therefore the angler chooses to think they do not suffer, more than it is convenient for him to fancy. Now it is a poor sport that depends for its existence on the want of a voice in the sufferer, and of imagination in the sportsman. Leigh Hunt voicesportsthinking
