Robert Louis Stevenson
Robert Louis Stevenson
Robert Louis Balfour Stevensonwas a Scottish novelist, poet, essayist, and travel writer. His most famous works are Treasure Island, Kidnapped, Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and A Child's Garden of Verses...
NationalityScottish
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth13 November 1850
gratitude past men
His past was fairly blameless; few men could read the rolls of their life with less apprehension; yet he was humbled to the dust by the many ill things he had done, and raised up again into sober and fearful gratitude by the many he had come so near to doing, yet avoided.
song morning stars
I will make you brooches and toys for your delight Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night. I will make a palace fit for you and me Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.
fall rain sea
The rain is falling all around, It falls on field and tree, It rains on the umbrellas here, And on the ships at sea. - Rain
sleep doors bird
Death, like a host, comes smiling to the door; Smiling, he greets us, on that tranquil shore Where neither piping bird nor peeping dawn Disturbs the eternal sleep, But in the stillness far withdrawn Our dreamless rest for evermore we keep.
marriage long disputes
Marriage is one long conversation, chequered by disputes.
truth enemy weapons
The truth that is suppressed by friends is the readiest weapon of the enemy.
men boulders needs
When a torrent sweeps a man against a boulder, you must expect him to scream, and you need not be surprised if the scream is sometimes a theory.
curiosity conquer one-thing
It is one thing to mortify curiosity, another to conquer it.
lasts force made
Nothing made by brute force lasts.
life happiness joy
We live in an ascending scale when we live happily, one thing leading to another in an endless series.
century nineteenth-century wells
Well, well, Henry James is pretty good, though he is of the nineteenth century, and that glaringly.
art pregnancy sensual
The web, then, or the pattern, a web at once sensuous and logical, an elegant and pregnant texture: that is style, that is the foundation of the art of literature.
years essence progress
There is no progress whatever. Everything is just the same as it was thousands, and tens of thousands, of years ago. The outward form changes. The essence does not change.
believe peaceful cry
This grove, that was now so peaceful, must then have rung with cries, I thought; and even with the thought I could believe I heard it ringing still.