Sarah Hale Quotes

Mary had a little lamb Its fleece was white as snow...

The fearful are the failing.

Stolen hours in a decrepit barn with Isaac Hale didn’t count; those times were hungry and empty and sometimes cruel, but never lovely.

There is no influence so powerful as that of the mother, but next in rank in efficacy is that of the schoolmaster.

The temple of our purest thoughts is silence.

Nor need we power or splendor, wide hall or lordly dome; The good, the true, the tender - these form the wealth of home.

It requires but a few threads of hope, for the heart that is skilled in the secret, to weave a web of happiness.

If you’ve finished with my wife’s hand, Hale, I would like her to have it back. As I said, we have things to do.” He tightened his arm around Emma, and with a stiff nod walked her off. “Why are you always so rude to Nate?” Emma cast him a glance as they walked back to the wagon. “I’m not rude, he’s rude. I don’t know about Indiana, but where I come from a man doesn’t hang onto the hand of another man’s wife.” He scowled and walked even faster. “But Nate’s an old friend. He was just being sociable.” Davis shook his head and snorted. Emma smiled. Maybe Sarah had been right, and Davis’s feelings were more engaged than she’d thought. Then her stomach clenched. She couldn’t allow that to happen. When the wagon train reached Oregon, she was going back to Indiana—with or without him.

Young poets are too apt to consider themselves “children of the mist” – they must dwell apart from men and contemn their kind, or they fear they shall be only taken for common-place characters. They forget that poetry is the language which speaks to all hearts—and that instead of cherishing the sacred fire as a lonely light, as one that burns in a charnel house, they should bring it forth in its beauty and brightness as a guide to the pleasant places and sparkling waters of earth’s happiness and the radiant messenger of heaven’s exalted hopes. And they should rejoice and be glad that to them the kindling of such high imagination is given. ~ Sarah Josepha Hale Ladies Magazine, November 1830 From the Introduction to Cherishing the Sacred Fire

Once it had been second nature to savour the contrast of new grass against dark, tilled soil, or an amethyst brooch nestled in folds of emerald silk; once I'd dreamed and breathed and thought in colour and light and shape. Sometimes I would even indulge in envisioning a day when my sisters were married and it was only me and Father, with enough food to go around, enough money to buy some paint, and enough time to put those colours and shapes down on paper and canvas or the cottage walls. Not likely to happen anytime soon- perhaps ever. So I was left with moments like this, admiring the glint of pale winter light on snow. I couldn't remember the last time I'd done it- bothered to notice anything lovely or interesting. Stolen hours in a decrepit barn with Issac Hale didn't count; those times were hungry and empty and sometimes cruel, but never lovely.

Sarah Hale was every inch a superhero. Not only did she fight for Thanksgiving, she fought for playgrounds for kids, schools for girls, and historical monuments for everyone. She argued against spanking, pie for breakfast, dull stories, corsets and bloomers and bustles, and very serious things like slavery. As if that weren’t enough, she raised five children; wrote poetry, children’s books, novels, and biographies; was the first female magazine editor in America; published great American authors like Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Edgar Allan Poe; and composed “Mary Had a Little Lamb.” How did she do all of these things? She was bold, brave, stubborn, and smart. And Sarah Hale had a secret weapon… a pen.

How did she do all of these things? She was bold, brave, stubborn, and smart. And Sarah Hale had a secret weapon… a pen.

How did she do all of these things? She was bold, brave, stubborn, and smart. And Sarah Hale had a secret weapon… a pen. When Sarah saw something she didn’t like, she picked up her pen and wrote about it. She wrote letters. She wrote articles. She wrote and wrote and wrote until she persuaded people to make the world a better place. Nothing stopped Sarah. Sarah Hale loved Thanksgiving. She wanted the whole country to celebrate it on the same day. When folks started to ignore Thanksgiving, well, that just curdled her gray. She picked up her pen. Sarah wrote letters, thousands of letters, asking politicians to make Thanksgiving a national holiday. She wrote magazine articles asking her readers for help. The women of America listened. They put down their babies, their hoes, their skillets, and their washing. They picked up their pens and wrote. When the letters arrived, the politicians listened, too. One by one, the states officially made Thanksgiving a holiday. But that wasn’t good enough. Sarah Hale wanted the whole country to celebrate together, like a family. She went to the top.

She picked up her mighty pen and wrote another letter, this time to President Abraham Lincoln. America needed Thanksgiving, now more than ever. A holiday wouldn’t stop the war, but it could help bring the country together. She signed the letter, folded it, and slid it into an envelope. She wrote Mr. Lincoln’s name and address on the envelope and stuck on a stamp. She mailed the letter. She waited. And she waited. And then… LINCOLN SAID YES! LINCOLN SAID YES! In 1863 President Lincoln made Thanksgiving a national holiday--a day for all Americans to give thanks, together. It took Sarah Hale thirty-eight years, thousands of letters, and countless bottles of ink, but she did it. Nothing stopped Sarah. That bold, brave, stubborn, and smart lady saved Thanksgiving…for all of us. THANK YOU, SARAH!

Thanksgiving was in trouble. It needed… A SUPERHERO! No, not that kind. Thanksgiving needed a real superhero, someone bold and brave and stubborn and smart. Thanksgiving needed Sarah Hale. Now, I know what you’re thinking. She doesn’t look like a superhero. She looks like a dainty little lady. Never underestimate dainty little ladies.

And in fact Hale-Bopp will reach its perihelion on April Fools' Day, which I suppose is fitting - but I think on the whole I'd rather be prone to being fooled than to be too wise a man for wonder.

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. —sarah williams

Sarah Josepha Hale of Newport, New Hampshire, was arguably the most influential woman in the nineteenth century.