Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ( 10 of 238 )
For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full of
emotion,
That if by chance read more
For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full of
emotion,
That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble,
Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret,
Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.
One half the world must sweat and groan that the other half may dream.
One half the world must sweat and groan that the other half may dream.
For 'tis sweet to stammer one letter
Of the Eternal's language;--on earth it is called Forgiveness!
For 'tis sweet to stammer one letter
Of the Eternal's language;--on earth it is called Forgiveness!
Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted.
Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted.
Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined;Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.
Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined;Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.
The architect
Built his great heart into these sculptured stones,
And with him toiled his children, and read more
The architect
Built his great heart into these sculptured stones,
And with him toiled his children, and their lives
Were builded, with his own, into the walls,
As offerings unto God.
Look not mournfully into the Past; it comes not back again.
Wisely improve the Present; it is thine.
read more
Look not mournfully into the Past; it comes not back again.
Wisely improve the Present; it is thine.
Go forth to meet the shadowy Future without fear and with a manly
heart.
Write on your doors the saying wise and old,
"Be bold! be bold!" and everywhere--"Be bold;
Be read more
Write on your doors the saying wise and old,
"Be bold! be bold!" and everywhere--"Be bold;
Be not too bold!" Yet better the excess
That the defect; better the more than less;
Better like Hector in the field to die,
Than like a perfumed Paris turn and fly.
O child! O new-born denizen
Of life's great city! on thy head
The glory of morn is read more
O child! O new-born denizen
Of life's great city! on thy head
The glory of morn is shed,
Like a celestial benison!
Here at the portal thou dost stand,
And with thy little hand
Thou openest the mysterious gate
Into the future's undiscovered land.
Sleep... Oh! how I loathe those little slices of death....
Sleep... Oh! how I loathe those little slices of death....
