Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Writ in the climate of heaven, in the language spoken by angels.

Writ in the climate of heaven, in the language spoken by angels.

The mind of the scholar, if he would leave it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds.

The mind of the scholar, if he would leave it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds.

Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said
Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days
That read more

Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said
Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days
That are no more, and shall no more return.
Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed;
I stay a little longer, as one stays
To cover up the embers that still burn.

But noble souls, through dust and heat,
Rise from disaster and defeat
The stronger.

But noble souls, through dust and heat,
Rise from disaster and defeat
The stronger.

Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning - an endeavor to find our place on a cloudy read more

Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning - an endeavor to find our place on a cloudy sea by measuring the distance we have run, but without any observation of the heavenly bodies.