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Half of the secular unrest and dismal, profane sadness of modern society comes from the vain ideas that every man is bound to be a critic for life.

Henry Van Dyke

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Henry Van Dyke
Age: 80 †
Born: 1852
Born: November 10
Died: 1933
Died: April 10
Diplomat
Poet
Writer
Germantown
Philadelphia
Society
Secular
Half
Bound
Comes
Bounds
Ideas
Vain
Dismal
Every
Sadness
Unrest
Men
Critics
Profane
Life
Criticism
Sad
Modern
Critic

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Culture is the habit of being pleased with the best and knowing why.
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No amount of energy will take the place of thought.
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What do I owe my father? Everything!
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But this I know. Those who seek Him will do well to look among the poor and the lowly, the sorrowful and the oppressed.
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What is Fortune, what is Fame? Futile gold and phantom name- Riches buried in a cave, Glory written on a grave.
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There is a better thing than the observance of Christmas day, and that is, keeping Christmas.
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A peace that depends on fear is nothing but a suppressed war.
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A flawless cup: how delicate and fine The flowing curve of every jewelled line! Look, turn it up or down, 'tis perfect still-- But holds no drop of life's heart-warming wine.
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I heard through the nightThe rush and the clamourThe pulse of the fightLike blows of Thor's hammerThe pattering flightOf the leaves, and the anguishedMoan of the forest vanquished.
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O' who will walk with me along lifes merry way? A comrade blithe and full of glee, who dares to laugh out loud and free.
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Love is not about getting - but giving.
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A clean and sensitive conscience, a steady and scrupulous integrity in small things as well as large, is the most valuable of all possessions, to a nation as to an individual.
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As long as habit and routine dictate the pattern of living, new dimensions of the soul will not emerge.
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Love is the heart s immortal thirst to be completely known and all forgiven.
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So let the way wind up the hill or down, O’er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy Still seeking what I sought when but a boy, New friendship, high adventure, and a crown. My heart will keep the courage of the quest, And hope the road’s last turn will be the best.
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Like water spilt upon the ground--alas, Our little lives flow swiftly on and pass Yet may they bring rich harvests and green grass!
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