Alexander Smith

  • Scottish poet
  • Born December 31, 1830
  • Died January 5, 1867

Susan Leigh Vaughan Smith (born September 26, 1971) is an American convict who was sentenced to life in prison with the possibility of parole after serving 30 years for murdering her two children, three-year-old Michael and 14-month-old Alexander.The case gained international attention because of Smith's false claim that an African-American man had kidnapped her sons during a carjacking. Her defense attorneys, David Bruck and Judy Clarke, called expert witnesses to testify that she suffered from mental health issues that impaired her judgment when she committed the crimes.According to the South Carolina Department of Corrections, Smith will be eligible for parole on November 4, 2024, after serving a minimum of 30 years.

How deeply seated in the human heart is the liking for gardens and gardening.

The saddest thing that befalls a soul is when it loses faith in God and woman.

Every man's road in life is marked by the graves of his personal liking.

Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.

Trees are your best antiques.

If you wish to make a man look noble, your best course is to kill him. What superiority he may have inherited from his race, what superiority nature may have personally gifted him with, comes out in death.

If you wish to preserve your secret, wrap it up in frankness.

A man's real possession is his memory. In nothing else is he rich, in nothing else is he poor.

The sea complains upon a thousand shores.

Christmas is the day that holds all time together.

A man doesn't plant a tree for himself. He plants it for posterity.

The world is not so much in need of new thoughts as that when thought grows old and worn with usage it should, like current coin, be called in, and, from the mint of genius, reissued fresh and new.

I would rather be remembered by a song than by a victory.

The dead keep their secrets, and in a while we shall be as wise as they - and as taciturn.

To sit for one's portrait is like being present at one's own creation.

In life there is nothing more unexpected and surprising than the arrivals and departures of pleasure. If we find it in one place today, it is vain to seek it there tomorrow. You can not lay a trap for it.

There is no ghost so difficult to lay as the ghost of an injury.

If you do your fair day's work, you are certain to get your fair day's wage - in praise or pudding, whichever happens to suit your taste.

I go into my library and all history unrolls before me.

Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.

A man gazing on the stars is proverbially at the mercy of the puddles in the road.

To be occasionally quoted is the only fame I care for.

Books are a finer world within the world.

We are never happy; we can only remember that we were so once.

Everything is sweetened by risk.

Trifles make up the happiness or the misery of human life.

We bury love; Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.

If the egotist is weak, his egotism is worthless. If the egotist is strong, acute, full of distinctive character, his egotism is precious, and remains a possession of the race.

A great man is the man who does something for the first time.

The man who in this world can keep the whiteness of his soul is not likely to lose it in any other.