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Those who would see wonderful things must often be ready to travel alone.

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
Alone
Often
Must
Things
Would
Travel
Ready
Wonderful

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What do I owe my father? Everything!
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One truly affectionate soul in a family will evert a sweetening and harmonizing influence upon all its members.
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We are all swimmers in God's mighty sea.
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I'm only wishing to go a-fishingFor this the month of May was made.
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Culture is the habit of being pleased with the best and knowing why.
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There is no personal charm so great as the charm of a cheerful temperament.
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Be glad of life because it gives you the chance to love, to work, to play, and to look up at the stars.
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The more keenly we are awake to the perils of life, the higher and grander is the possibility of being truly brave.
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No amount of energy will take the place of thought.
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The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.
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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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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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Thou wayfaring Jesus - a pilgrim and stranger, Exiled from heaven by love at Thy birth: Exiled again from Thy rest in the manger, A fugitive child 'mid the perils of earth - Cheer with Thy fellowship all who are weary, Wandering far from the land that they love: Guide every heart that is homeless and dreary, Safe to its home in Thy presence above.
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If all the skies were sunshine Our faces would be fain To feel once more upon them The cooling splash of rain. If all the world were music, Our hearts would often long For one sweet strain of silence, To break the endless song If life were always merry, Our souls would seek relief, And rest from weary laughter In the quiet arms of grief.
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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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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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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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Natural beauty and wonder are priceless heirlooms which God has bestowed upon our nation. How shall we escape the contempt of the coming generation if we suffer this irreplaceable heritage to be wasted?
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Love that leads life upward is the noblest and the best.
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