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There is nothing holier in this life of ours than the first consciousness of love, the first fluttering of its silken wings.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
Poet
Professor
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
First
Silken
Love
Holier
Life
Fluttering
Romance
Wings
Consciousness
Firsts
Nothing
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Each morning sees some task begin, each evening sees it close.
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Well I know the secret places, And the nests in hedge and tree At what doors are friendly faces, In what hearts are thoughts of me.
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Love keeps the cold out better than a cloak.
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Youth comes but once a life time. Perhaps, but it remains strong in many for their entire lives.
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Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
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Youth, hope, and love: To build a new life on a ruined life, To make the future fairer than the past, And make the past appear a troubled dream.
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Let us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate, Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.
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Prayer is innocence's friend and willingly flieth incessant 'twist the earth and the sky, the carrier-pigeon of heaven.
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The country is not priest-ridded, but press-ridden.
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Tis always morning somewhere.
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Even He that died for us upon the cross, in the last hour, in the unutterable agony of death, was mindful of His mother, as if to teach us that this holy love should be our last worldly thought - the last point of earth from which the soul should take its flight for heaven.
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And the wind plays on those great sonorous harps, the shrouds and masts of ships.
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Success is not something to wait for, it is something to work for.
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A boy's will is the wind's will.
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A town that boasts inhabitants like me Can have no lack of good society.
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If we could read the secret history of our enemies we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.
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The emigrant's way o'er the western desert is mark'd by Camp-fires long consum'd and bones that bleach in the sunshine.
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Build today, then strong and sure, With a firm and ample base And ascending and secure. Shall tomorrow find its place.
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