Quotes from Bret Harte

And then, for an old man like me, it's not exactly right,This kind o' playing soldier with no enemy in sight.

A bird in the hand is a certainty, but a bird in the bush may sing.

The creator who could put a cancer in a believer's stomach is above being interfered with by prayers.

If, of all words of tongue and pen, The saddest are, It might have been,' More sad are these we daily see: 'It is, but hadn't ought to be!'

Never a tear bedims the eye that time and patience will not dry.

A bird in hand is a certainty. But a bird in the bush may sing.

Beneath this tree lies the body of John Oakhurst, who struck a streak of bad luck on the 23rd of November, 1850, and handed in his checks on the 7th of December, 1850.

Tell the boys I've got the Luck with me now.

Never a lip is curved with pain that can't be kissed into smiles again.

Never a tear bedims the eye that time and patience will not dry.

Which I wish to remark,And my language is plain,That for ways that are darkAnd for tricks that are vain,The heathen Chinee is peculiar,Which the same I would rise to explain.

If, of all words of tongue and pen, The saddest are, 'It might have been,' More sad are these we daily see: 'It is, but hadn't ought to be.

The only sure thing about luck is that it will change.

For, he (The Devil) observed, the issue of the great battle of Good and Evil had been otherwise settled, as he would presently show him. "It wants but a few moments of night," he continued, "and over this interval of twilight, as you know, I have been given complete control. Look to the West.("The Legend of Monte Del Diablo")

The morning was bright and propitious. Before their departure, mass had been said in the chapel, and the protection of St. Ignatius invoked against all contingent evils, but especially against bears, which, like the fiery dragons of old, seemed to cherish unconquerable hostility to the Holy Church. ("The Legend Of Monte Del Diablo").

There was, I think, a prevailing impression common to the provincial mind, that his misfortune was the result of the defective moral quality of his being a stranger.

Tommy, you're a good little man, but you can't gamble worth a cent. Don't try it over again.' He then handed him his money back, pushed him gently from the room, and so made a devoted slave of Tom Simson.

I've had some mighty mean moments afore I kem to this spot,-- Lost on the plains in '50, drowned almost, and shot; But out on this alkali desert, a hunting a crazy wife, Was ra'ly as on-satis-factory as anything in my life.

Nellie was a good girl, and I think had a sort of quiet respect for old Fagg's unobtrusiveness. But her fancy was already taken captive by Rattler's superficial qualities, which were obvious and pleasing. I don't think Nellie was any worse than you or I. We are more apt to take acquaintances at their apparent value than their intrinsic worth. It's less trouble, and, except when we want to trust them, quite as convenient.

There was a Sabbath lull in the air, which, in a settlement unused to Sabbath influences, looked ominous.

Luck is a mighty queer thing. All you know about it for certain is that it's bound to change. And it's finding out when it's going to change that makes you.

It [the town] was experiencing a spasm of virtuous reaction, quite as lawless and ungovernable as any of the acts that had provoked it.

He was known to be a gambler; he was suspected to be a thief.

A bird in hand is a certainty. But a bird in the bush may sing.