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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.

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
Turn
Rustling
Days
Thoughtful
Turns
Triumph
Stills
Defeat
Still
Hearts
Ever
Fields
Heart
Dead
Memories
Gala

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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 the heart s immortal thirst to be completely known and all forgiven.
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The world is full of warfare 'twixt the evil and the goodI watched the battle from afar as one who understoodThe shouting and confusion, the bloody, blundering fight-How few there are that see it clear, how few that wage it right!
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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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The birth of Jesus is the sunrise in the Bible.
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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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I shall grow old, but never lose life's zest, because the road's last turn will be the best.
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Love is not about getting - but giving.
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Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul, May keep the path, but will not reach the goal While he who walks in love may wander far, Yet God will bring him where the blessed are.
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Heaven often seems distant and unknown, but if He who made the road... is our guide, we need not fear to lose the way.
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Use what talents you possess the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best.
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Man said, I am tired of kings! Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore, They make me pay for their lust and their war I am the puppet, they pull the strings The blood of my heart is the wine they drink. I will govern myself for awhile I think, And see what that brings!
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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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No amount of energy will take the place of thought. A strenuous life with its eyes shut is a kind of wild insanity.
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Happiness is inward, and not outward and so, it does not depend on what we have, but on what we are.
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We measure success by accumulation. The measure is false. The true measure is appreciation. He who loves most has most.
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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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Look around for a place to sow a few seeds.
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The shadow by my finger cast Divides the future from the past: Before it, sleeps the unborn hour, In darkness, and beyond thy power. Behind its unreturning line, The vanished hour, no longer thine: One hour alone is in thy hands,- The NOW on which the shadow stands.
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What you possess in the world will be found at the day of your death to belong to someone else. But what you are will be yours forever.
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