Washington Irving Quotes

The land of literature is a fairy land to those who view it at a distance, but, like all other landscapes, the charm fades on a nearer approach, and the thorns and briars become visible.

She rose hastily from her bed, and stepped lightly to the window. A tall figure stood among the shadows of the trees. As it raised its head, a beam of moonlight fell upon the countenance. Heaven and earth ! she beheld the Spectre Bridegroom !

There is a certain relief in change, even though it be from bad to worse! As I have often found in travelling in a stagecoach, that it is often a comfort to shift one’s position, and be bruised in a new place.

There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm that is not to be doubted.

We feel that we are surrounded by the congregated bones of the great men of past times, who have filled history with their deeds, and the earth with their renown. And yet it almost provokes a smile at the vanity of human ambition to see how they are crowded together and jostled in the dust; what parsimony is observed in doling out a scanty nook, a gloomy corner, a little portion of earth, to those whom, when alive, kingdoms could not satisfy, and how many shapes and forms and artifices are devised to catch the casual notice of the passenger, and save from forgetfulness for a few short years a name which once aspired to occupy ages of the world's thought and admiration.

A pleasing land of drowsy head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, Forever flushing round a summer sky. — CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.

But it is meet I should, in the true spirit of romantic story, give some account of the looks and equipments of my hero and his steed. The animal he bestrode was a broken-down plow-horse, that had outlived almost everything but its viciousness. He was gaunt and shagged, with a ewe neck, and ahead like a hammer; his rusty mane and tail were tangled and
knotted with burs; one eye had lost its pupil, and was glaring and spectral, but the other had the gleam of a genuine devil in it. Still he must have had fire and mettle in his day, if we may judge from the name he bore of Gunpowder. He had, in fact, been a
favorite steed of his master's, the choleric Van Ripper, who was a furious rider, and had infused, very probably, some of his own spirit into the animal; for, old and broken-down as he looked, there was more of the lurking devil in him than in any young filly in the country.

Her mighty lakes, like oceans of liquid silver; her mountains, with bright aerial tints; her valleys, teeming with wild fertility; her tremendous cataracts, thundering in their solitudes; her boundless plains, waving with spontaneous verdure; her broad, deep rivers, rolling in solemn silence to the ocean; her trackless forests, where vegetation puts forth all its magnificence; her skies, kindling with the magic of summer clouds and glorious sunshine - no, never need an American look beyond his own country for the sublime and beautiful of natural scenery.

Con tal disposición y determinación, ¡qué país es éste para el viajero, donde la más mísera posada está tan llena de aventuras como un castillo encantado y cada comida es en sí un logro! ¡Que se quejen otros de la falta de buenos caminos y hoteles suntuosos y de todas las complicadas comodidades de un país culto y civilizado en la mansedumbre y el lugar común, pero a mí que me den el trepar por las ásperas montañas, el andar por ahí errante y las costumbres medio salvajes, pero francas y hospitalarias, que le dan un sabor tan exquisito a la querida, vieja y romántica España!

The grate had been removed from the wide overwhelming fireplace to make way for a fire of wood, in the midst of which was an enormous log glowing and blazing, and sending forth a vast volume of light and heat: this, I understood, was the Yule-clog, which the squire was particular in having brought in and illumined on a Christmas Eve, according to ancient custom.* * The Yule-clog is a great log of wood, sometimes the root
of a tree, brought into the house with great ceremony on
Christmas Eve, laid in the fireplace, and lighted with the
brand of last year's clog. While it lasted there was great
drinking, singing, and telling of tales. Sometimes it was
accompanied by Christmas candles; but in the cottages the
only light was from the ruddy blaze of the great wood fire.
The Yule-clog was to burn all night; if it went out, it was
considered a sign of ill luck.

A tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edge tool that grows keener with constant use.

I am therefore a ready believer in relics, legends, and local anecdotes of goblins and great men, and would advise all travellers who travel for their gratification to be the same. What is it to us whether these stories be true or false, so long as we can persuade ourselves into the belief of them and enjoy all the charm of the reality?

A sharp tongue is the only edge tool that grows keener with constant use.

There is a healthful hardiness about real dignity, that never dreads contact and communion with others, however humble. It is only spurious pride that is morbid and sensitive, and shrinks from every touch.

Little minds are tamed and subdued by misfortune; but great minds rise above them.