29 Quotes & Sayings By Helen Hunt Jackson

Helen Hunt Jackson (May 11, 1828 – March 12, 1893) was an American author and journalist, most notably for her work as a pioneer feminist and abolitionist. She was born in Brunswick, Maine and graduated from Bowdoin College in 1847. She was forced to return home without her diploma because of illness and never returned to college. She began her career as a short story writer and writer of poetry and prose for the "North American Review" Read more

She married Charles Jackson in 1849, but he died two years later. In 1866 she remarried, this time to George D. Prentice, editor of the New York Evening World.

In 1868 they moved to the new city of New York. In 1874 she published "Aunt Mary's Stories", a series of stories about life as a woman in the early nineteenth century. Her first novel, Ramona (1884), was met with mixed reviews from critics who were not accustomed to a woman writing a story with a strong female character.

Like many of her novels she drew on her personal experiences, though she had never been involved with Indian people or cultures before writing Ramona. When Ramona was first published it received anger from some Californian Indians who claimed that Native American culture had been defaced by Ramona's depiction of life on the California missions as oppressive and cruel. In response to their complaints about Ramona Helen wrote a letter titled "In Defense of Ramona" which appeared in the Boston-based magazine "Ladies' Home Journal".

In it she argued that Ramona had been written purely from a historical perspective and that Aunt Mary's stories were more historically accurate than the old texts detailing the missions, which were often based on hearsay rather than firsthand knowledge. Jackson also defended herself against criticism that she had not tried to convey the true meaning of the missionary period, by pointing out that she had written about people who were long dead and could not defend themselves or explain their actions. Her second novel, The Rose of Santa Clara (1888), depicted Spanish-Mexican culture through the eyes of young Isabel Santos.

Her third novel, The Doctor's Wife (1894), is one also about an Indian woman married to an Anglo man who has converted to Christianity after meeting an Anglo missionary named Dr. Bradshaw at Fort Laramie in Wyoming. It is no longer considered one of her best works by critics who do not accept it as part of Jackson's canon because it does not fit

1
Bee to the blossom, moth to the flame; Each to his passion; what's in a name? Helen Hunt Jackson
2
Next time! " In what calendar are kept the records of those next times which never come? Helen Hunt Jackson
3
Will not the Senorita trust me?" Ramona smiled faintly through her tears. "Yes, " she said. "I will trust you. You are Alessandro, are you not?"" Yes, Senorita, " he answered, greatly surprised, "I am Alessandro. Helen Hunt Jackson
4
There had been no crises of incident, or marked movements of experience such as in Felipe's imaginations of love were essential to the fulness of its growth. This is a common mistake on the part of those who have never felt love's true bonds. Once in those chains, one perceives that they are not of the sort full forged in a day. They are made as the great iron cables are made, on which bridges are swung across the widest water-channels, --not of single huge rods, or bars, which would be stronger, perhaps, to look at; but myriads of the finest wires, each one by itself so fine, so frail, it would barely hold a child's kite in the wind: by hundreds, hundreds of thousands of such, twisted, re-twisted together, are made the mighty cables, which do not any more swerve from their place in the air, under the weight and jar of the ceaseless traffic and tread of two cities, than the solid earth swerves under the same ceaseless weight and jar. Such cables do not break. Helen Hunt Jackson
5
But undying memories stood like sentinels in her breast. When the notes of doves, calling to each other, fell on her ear, her eyes sought the sky, and she heard a voice saying, "Majella! Helen Hunt Jackson
6
Stain my eyes as I may, on all sides all is black. Helen Hunt Jackson
7
Gazing around, looking up at the lofty pinnacles above, which seemed to pierce the sky, looking down upon the world, --it seemed the whole world, so limitless it stretched away at her feet, --feeling that infinite unspeakable sense of nearness to Heaven, remoteness from earth which comes only on mountain heights, she drew in a long breath of delight, and cried: "At last! at last, Alessandro! Here we are safe! This is freedom! This is joy! . Helen Hunt Jackson
8
We have flattered ourselves by inventing proverbs of comparison in matter of blindness, --"blind as a bat, " for instance. It would be safe to say that 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. Tempers strain and recover, hearts break and heal, strength falters, fails, and comes near to giving way altogether, every day, without being noted by the closest lookers-on. Helen Hunt Jackson
9
The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown... The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down. Helen Hunt Jackson
10
Who longest waits most surely wins. Helen Hunt Jackson
11
Now and then one sees a face which has kept its smile pure and undefiled. Such a smile transfigures such a smile if the artful but know it is the greatest weapon a face can have. Helen Hunt Jackson
12
Who waits until the wind shall silent keep Will never find the ready hour to sow. Helen Hunt Jackson
13
We sail at sunrise daily "outward bound." Helen Hunt Jackson
14
Words are less needful to sorrow than to joy. Helen Hunt Jackson
15
There is nothing so skillful in its own defense as imperious pride. Helen Hunt Jackson
16
Wounded vanity knows when it is mortally hurt and limps off the field piteous all disguises thrown away. But pride carries its banner to the last and fast as it is driven from one field unfurls it in another. Helen Hunt Jackson
17
No past is dead for us but only sleeping love. Helen Hunt Jackson
19
When love is at its best, one loves so much that he cannot forget. Helen Hunt Jackson
20
I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod. Helen Hunt Jackson
21
O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind. Helen Hunt Jackson
22
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
23
When Time is spent, Eternity begins. Helen Hunt Jackson
24
By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer. Helen Hunt Jackson
25
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
26
If I can do one hundredth part for the Indian that Mrs. Stowe did for the Negro, I will be thankful. Helen Hunt Jackson
27
Motherhood is priced Of God, at price no man may dare To lessen or misunderstand. Helen Hunt Jackson
28
O month when they who love must love and wed. Helen Hunt Jackson