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How fascinating is death, the extinction of life. One moment here and the next gone. The light put out and only the empty bag of the body left.

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
Life
Gone
Moment
Death
Left
Extinction
Next
Bags
Moments
Emptiness
Light
Fascinating
Body
Empty

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Peace without Justice is a low estate,— A coward cringing to an iron Fate! But Peace through Justice is the great ideal,— We'll pay the price of war to make it real.
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You can never begin to live until you dare to die.
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Even if we should find another Eden, we would not be fit to enjoy it perfectly nor stay in it forever.
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I'm only wishing to go a-fishingFor this the month of May was made.
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Flowers rejoice when night is done, Lift their heads to greet the sun Sweetest looks and odours raise, In a silent hymn of praise.
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Modest egotism is the salt of conversation you do not want too much of it, but if it is altogether omitted, everything tastes flat.
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We are all swimmers in God's mighty sea.
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There is no conflict between the Old and the New the conflict is between the False and the True.
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Genius is talent set on fire by courage.
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Death comes in its own time, in its own way.Death is as unique as the individual experiencing it.
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Heaven is blest with perfect rest, but the blessing of Earth is toil.
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Love is not getting, but giving It is goodness, and honor, and peace and pure living.
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Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome But when it comes to living, there is no place like home.
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Lord, when my spirit shall return to thee, At the foot of a friendly tree let my body be buried, That this dust may rise and rejoice among the branches.
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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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For ever so our thoughtful hearts repeatOn fields of triumph dirges of defeatAnd still we turn on gala-days to treadAmong the rustling memories of the dead.
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Deeds not Words: I say so too! And yet I find it somehow true, A word may help a man in need, To nobler act and braver deed.
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I shall grow old, but never lose life's zest, because the road's last turn will be the best.
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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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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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