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We measure success by accumulation. The measure is false. The true measure is appreciation. He who loves most has most.
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
Success
True
Accumulation
Appreciation
Measure
False
Loves
More quotes by Henry Van Dyke
A peace that depends on fear is nothing but a suppressed war.
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Tact is the unsaid part of what you think.
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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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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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I shall grow old, but never lose life's zest, because the road's last turn will be the best.
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Those who would see wonderful things must often be ready to travel alone.
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I'm only wishing to go a-fishingFor this the month of May was made.
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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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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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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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Gratitude is a two fold love - love coming to visit us, and love running out to greet a welcome guest.
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In warlike pomp, with banners flowing, The regiments of autumn stood: I saw their gold and scarlet glowing From every hillside, every wood.
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Spend as much time as possible, with body and with spirit in God's out-of-doors.
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In the progress of personality, first comes a declaration of independence, then a recognition of interdependence.
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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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Count not the cost of honour to the dead!The tribute that a mighty nation paysTo those who loved her well in former daysMeans more than gratitude for glories fledFor every noble man that she hath bred,Lives in the bronze and marble that we raise,Immortalised by art's immortal praise,To lead our sons as he our fathers led.
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We are all swimmers in God's mighty sea.
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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.
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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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Of all the things that man has made, no is so full of interest and charm, none possesses so distinct a life and character of its own, as a ship.
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