Helen Hunt Jackson Quotes

• If I could write a story that would do for the Indian one-hundredth part what ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin’ did for the Negro, I would be thankful the rest of my life.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• I shall be found with ‘Indians’ engraved on my brain when I am dead. A fire has been kindled within me, which will never go out.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• Words are less needful to sorrow than to joy.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• When Time is spent, Eternity begins.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• When the baby dies, On every side Rose stranger’s voices, hard and harsh and loud. The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed That men’s eyes might not see Her misery.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• When love is at its best, one loves so much that he cannot forget.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• There is nothing so skillful in its own defense as imperious pride.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• There cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range of circumstance and connection, as the greater majority of human beings are in the bosoms of their families.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• On the king’s gate the moss grew gray; The king came not. They call’d him dead; And made his eldest son, one day, Slave in his father’s stead.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• Love has a tide!

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• If I can do one hundredth part for the Indian that Mrs. Stowe did for the Negro, I will be thankful.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer’s best of weather And autumn’s best of cheer.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• But great loves, to the last, have pulses red; All great loves that have ever died dropped dead.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• But all lost things are in the angels’ keeping, Love; No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love; The years of Heaven with all earth’s little pain Make Good Together there we can begin again, In babyhood.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what’s in a name?

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• As soon as I began, it seemed impossible to write fast enough – I wrote faster than I would write a letter – two thousand to three thousand words in a morning, and I cannot help it.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

• O month when they who love must love and wed.

  Helen Hunt Jackson

  Topics in Wedding

Helen Hunt Jackson (21)

Birth:	15th October, 1830
Death:	12th August, 1885
Nationality:	American
Profession:	Novelist, Poet

About

Helen Hunt Jackson was born in Amherst, Massachusetts, USA. She was an American poet and novelist who became an activist on behalf of improved treatment of Native Americans by the U.S. government. She described the adverse effects of government actions in her history A Century of Dishonor. Her novel Ramona dramatized the federal government's mistreatment of Native Americans in Southern California after the Mexican–American War and attracted considerable attention to her cause. She wrote other novels include: Mercy Philbrick's Choice, Bits Of Travel At Home, Hetty's Strange History, Glimpses of three coasts, and A Call for Reform. She wrote several poetry books include: Verses, Sonnets and Lyrics, and Poems.

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Births

• 1831 - Mark Rutherford
• 1908 - Max Bill
• 1957 - Susan Powter
• 1905 - Kenneth Rexroth
• 1952 - Robert McChesney

Deaths

• 1940 - Nathanael West
• 2001 - Lance Loud
• 1987 - Sir Henry Thomas Cotton
• 1899 - Dwight L. Moody
• 1998 - Virginia Graham