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Gone are the living, but the dead remain, And not neglected for a hand unseen, Scattering its bounty like a summer rain, Still keeps their graves and their remembrance green.
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
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Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
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More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Death is better than disease.
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People demand freedom only when they have no power.
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Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us.
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Each morning sees some task begun, each evening sees it close Something attempted, something done, has earned a night's repose.
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The natural alone is permanent.
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Perseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody.
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It is the heart and not the brain, That to the highest doth attain.
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Much must he toil who serves the Immortal Gods.
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A noble type of good. Heroic womanhood.
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Softly the evening came /with the sunset/.
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Death is the chillness that precedes the dawn We shudder for a moment, then awake In the broad sunshine of the other life.
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Tis always morning somewhere.
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Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending.
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The shadows of the mind are like those of the body. In the morning of life they all lie behind us at noon we trample them under foot and in the evening they stretch long, broad, and deepening before us.
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Live up to the best that is in you: Live noble lives, as you all may, in whatever condition you may find yourselves.
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The things that have been and shall be no more, The things that are, and that hereafter shall be, The things that might have been, and yet were not, The fading twilight of joys departed.
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Oh, how beautiful is the summer night, which is not night, but a sunless, yet unclouded, day, descending upon earth with dews and shadows and refreshing coolness! How beautiful the long mild twilight, which, like a silver clasp, unites today with yesterday!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Hope has as many lives as a cat or a king.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O holy trust! O endless sense of rest! Like the beloved John To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast, And thus to journey on!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The mind of the scholar, if you would have it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds. It is better that his armor should be somewhat bruised by rude encounters even, than hang forever rusting on the wall.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow