Best 14 quotes of Caroline Norton on MyQuotes

A child's eyes, those clear wells of undefiled thought—what on earth can be more beautiful? Full of hope, love and curiosity, they meet your own.

A child's eyes, those clear, wells of undefiled thought - what on earth can be more beautiful? Full of hope, love and curiosity, they meet your own. In prayer, how earnest; in joy, how sparkling; in sympathy, how tender! The man who never tried the companionship of a little child has carelessly passed by one of the great pleasures of life, as one passes a rare flower without plucking it or knowing its value

A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, There was a lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears; But a comrade stood beside him, while his lifeblood ebbed away.

A woman's suffering is never above half known, for the fact of the publicity of her wrongs is counted to her for disgrace.

Child murderers practice their profession without let or hindrance, and open infant butcheries unquestioned...Is there no remedy for all this ante-natal child murder?

Every poet hopes that after-times Shall set some value on his votive lay.

For death and life, in ceaseless strife, Beat wild on this world's shore, And all our calm is in that balm— Not lost but gone before.

I am listening for the voices Which I heard in days of old.

Of all the joys that lighten suffering earth, what joy is welcomed like a new born child?

Oh, there at last, life's trials past, / We'll meet our loved ones more, / Whose feet have trod the path to God, -- / Not lost, but gone before.

O Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth To dim enchantments; melting heaven with earth, Leaving on craggy hills and running streams A softness like the atmosphere of dreams.

Perhaps there will come a time when...an unmarried mother will not be despised because of her motherhood...and when the right of the unborn to be born will not be denied or interfered with.

We have been friends together In sunshine and in shade.

Once more, my harp! once more, although I thought Never to wake thy silent strings again, A wandering dream thy gentle chords have wrought, And my sad heart, which long hath dwelt in pain, Soars, like a wild bird from a cypress bough, Into the poet's Heaven, and leaves dull grief below