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A handful of red sand from the hot clime Of Arab deserts brought, Within this glass becomes the spy of Time, The minister of Thought.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
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Longfellow
Glasses
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Red
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Sang in tones of deep emotion Songs of love and songs of longing.
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All was silent as before - All silent save the dripping rain.
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It is difficult to know at what moment love begins it is less difficult to know that it has begun.
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The foods that prolong life and increase purity, vigour, health, cheerfulness, and happiness are those that are delicious, soothing, substantial and agreeable... Foods that are bitter, sour, salt, over-hot, pungent, dry and burning produce unhappiness, repentance and disease.
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Out of the shadows of night The world rolls into light.
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There is no death! What seems so is transition this life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life elysian, whose portal we call Death.
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Something the heart must have to cherish, Must love and joy and sorrow learn Something with passion clasp, or perish And in itself to ashes burn.
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I am the Angel of the Sun Whose flaming wheels began to run When God's almighty breath Said to the darkness and the Night, Let there be light! and there was light.
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All your strength in is your union. All your danger is in discord. Therefore be at peace henceforward, And as brothers live together.
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Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.
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Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
You would attain to the divine perfection.
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When we walk towards the sun of Truth, all shadows are cast behind us.
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The morrow was a bright September morn The earth was beautiful as if newborn There was nameless splendor everywhere, That wild exhilaration in the air, Which makes the passers in the city street Congratulate each other as they meet.
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Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The soul...is audible, not visible.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Oh, how short are the days! How soon the night overtakes us!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow