Advice"I must do as you do? Your way I owns a very good way, and still, There are sometimes two straight roads to a town, One over, one under the hill. You are treading the safe and the well-worn way, That the prudent choose each time;And you think me reckless and rash to-day Because I prefer to climb. Your path is the right one, and so is mine. We are not like peas in a pod, Compelled to lie in a certain line, Or else be scattered abroad.' T were a dull old world, methinks, my friend, If we all just went one way;Yet our paths will meet no doubt at the end, Though they lead apart today. You like the shade, and I like the sun;You like an even pace, I like to mix with the crowd and run, And then rest after the race. I like danger, and storm, and strife, You like a peaceful time;I like the passion and surge of life, You like its gentle rhyme. You like buttercups, dewy sweet, And crocuses, framed in snow;I like roses, born of the heat, And the red carnation's glow. I must live my life, not yours, my friend, For so it was written down;We must follow our given paths to the end, But I trust we shall meet--in town.

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox

After the fierce midsummer all ablaze Has burned itself to ashes, and expires In the intensity of its own fires, There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze. So after Love has led us, till he tires Of his own throes, and torments, and desires, Comes large-eyed friendship: with a restful gaze, He beckons us to follow, and across Cool verdant vales we wander free from care. Is it a touch of frost lies in the air? Why are we haunted with a sense of loss? We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox

After the fierce midsummer all ablaze Has burned itself to ashes, and expires In the intensity of its own fires, There come the mellow, mild, St. Martin days Crowned with the calm of peace, but sad with haze. So after Love has led us, till he tires Of his own throes, and torments, and desires, Comes large-eyed friendship: with a restful gaze, He beckons us to follow, and across Cool verdant vales we wander free from care. Is it a touch of frost lies in the air? Why are we haunted with a sense of loss? We do not wish the pain back, or the heat;And yet, and yet, these days are incomplete.

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox

All love that has no friendship for its base is like a mansion built upon the sand.

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox

All love that has no friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon the sand.

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox

All love that has no friendship for its base Is like a mansion built upon the sand.

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox

All Mad"'He is mad as a hare, poor fellow, And should be in chains,' you say, I haven't a doubt of your statement, But who isn't mad, I pray? Why, the world is a great asylum, And the people are all insane, Gone daft with pleasure or folly, Or crazed with passion and pain. The infant who shrieks at a shadow, The child with his Santa Claus faith, The woman who worships Dame Fashion, Each man with his notions of death, The miser who hoards up his earnings, The spendthrift who wastes them too soon, The scholar grown blind in his delving, The lover who stares at the moon. The poet who thinks life a paean, The cynic who thinks it is a fraud, The youth who goes seeking for pleasure, The preacher who dares talk of God, All priests with their creeds and their croaking, All doubters who dare to deny, The gay who find aught to wake laughter, The sad who find aught worth a sigh, Whoever is downcast or solemn, Whoever is gleeful and gay, Are only the dupes of delusions— We are all of us—all of us mad.

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Always continue the climb. It is possible for you to do whatever you choose, if you first get to know who you are and are willing to work with a power that is greater than ourselves to do it.

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox

And from the discontent of man The world's best progress springs.

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox

And the smile that is worth the praises of earth is the smile that shines through tears.

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox