Bret Harte (1836–1902,) fully Francis Brett Harte, was an American short story writer and poet. He is best remembered for his short fiction featuring miners, gamblers, and other romantic figures of the California Gold Rush.
Born in Albany, New York State, he went to California in 1854 and became a compositor and secretary of the U.S. Mint in San Francisco (1864–70.) He was U.S. consul in Krefeld, Germany (1878–80) and Glasgow, Scotland (1880–85,) and then lived in London.
Harte’s most famous poems, written in San Francisco, include ‘John Burns of Gettysburg’ and ‘The Society upon the Stanislaus.’ His humorous verse includes ‘Plain Language from Truthful James’ (1870,) commonly referred to as ‘The Heathen Chinee.’
In 1868, Harte founded and edited the Overland Monthly, to which he contributed short stories, later collected in The Luck of Roaring Camp and Other Sketches (1870.)
More: Wikipedia • READ: Works by Bret Harte
A bird in the hand is a certainty, but a bird in the bush may sing.
—Bret Harte
Topics: Freedom
One big vice in a man is apt to keep out a great many smaller ones.
—Bret Harte
Topics: Vice
Never a lip is curved with pain
That can’t be kissed into smile again.
—Bret Harte
Topics: Kiss, Pain
Over the trackless past, somewhere, lie the lost days of our tropic youth.
—Bret Harte
Topics: Youth
Never a tear bedims the eye that time and patience will not dry.
—Bret Harte
Topics: Sorrow
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