Hoyt & Roberts, comps. Hoyt’s New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations. 1922.
Humanity
Love, hope, fear, faith—these make humanity;
These are its sign and note and character.
Robert Browning—Paracelsus. Sc. 3.
An inadvertent step may crush the snail
That crawls at evening in the public path.
But he that has humanity, forewarned,
Will turn aside and let the reptile live.
Cowper—Task. Bk. VI.
W’en you see a man in woe,
Walk right up and say “hullo.”
Say “hullo” and “how d’ye do,”
“How’s the world a-usin’ you?”
. . . . .
W’en you travel through the strange
Country t’other side the range,
Then the souls you’ve cheered will know
Who you be, an’ say “hullo.”
Sam Walter Foss—Hullo.
He held his seat; a friend to human race.
Homer—Iliad. Bk. VI. L. 18. Pope’s trans.
Respect us, human, and relieve us, poor.
Homer—Odyssey. Bk. IX. L. 338. Pope’s trans.
Over the brink of it
Picture it—think of it,
Dissolute man.
Lave in it—drink of it
Then, if you can.
Hood—Bridge of Sighs.
Oh, God! that bread should be so dear,
And flesh and blood so cheap!
Hood—Song of a Shirt.
For He, who gave this vast machine to roll,
Breathed Life in them, in us a Reasoning Soul;
That kindred feelings might our state improve,
And mutual wants conduct to mutual love.
Juvenal—Satire XV. L. 203.
Every human heart is human.
Longfellow—Hiaivallia. Introduction. L. 91.
Laborin’ man an’ laborin’ woman
Hev one glory an’ one shame;
Ev’ythin’ thet’s done inhuman
Injers all on ’em the same.
Lowell—The Biglow Papers. First Series. No. 1. St. 10.
It is good to be often reminded of the inconsistency of human nature, and to learn to look without wonder or disgust on the weaknesses which are found in the strongest minds.
Macaulay—Warren Hastings.
For nothing human foreign was to him.
Thomson—To the Memory of Lord Talbot. Translation of “Humani nihil a me alienum puto.”
For the interesting and inspiring thing about America, gentlemen, is that she asks nothing for herself except what she has a right to ask for humanity itself.
Woodrow Wilson—Speech, at the luncheon of the Mayor of New York, May 17, 1915.
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.
Wordsworth—Hart-leap Well. Pt. II.
But hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity.
Wordsworth—Tintern Abbey.