Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft
So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away
Over the read more
See yonder little cloud, that, borne aloft
So tenderly by the wind, floats fast away
Over the snowy peaks!
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.
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.
Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches
The innermost recesses of my spirit!
Oh, there is something in that voice that reaches
The innermost recesses of my spirit!
Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking.
Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking.
