Helen Hunt Jackson Quotes

Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what’s in a name?

Wounded vanity knows when it is mortally hurt; and limps off the field, piteous, all disguises thrown away. But pride carries its banner to the last; and fast as it is driven from one field unfurls it in another, never admitting that there is a shade less honor in the second field than in the […]