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Among the noblest in the land - Though man may count himself the least - That man I honor and revere, Who without favor, without fear, In the great city dares to stand, The friend of every friendless beast.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Every
Stand
Count
Revere
Men
Land
Favors
Dares
Least
Dare
Vegetarianism
Though
Honor
Noblest
Fear
City
Vegan
May
Among
Vegetarian
Without
Friend
Favor
Great
Cities
Beast
Friendless
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Fear is the virtue of slaves but the heart that loveth is willing.
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Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
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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.
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I promise myself great pleasure from my visit to England. You know I am to stay with Dickens while in London and beside his own very agreeable society, I shall enjoy that of the most noted literary men of the day, which will be a great gratification to me.
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Time is the life of the soul.
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The sentence of the first murderer was pronounced by the Supreme Judge of the universe. Was it death? No, it was life. 'A fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth' and 'Whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold.
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When we walk towards the sun of Truth, all shadows are cast behind us.
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Tomorrow is the mysterious, unknown guest.
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Do not delay, Do not delay: the golden moments fly!
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The atmosphere breathes rest and comfort, and the many chambers seem full of welcomes.
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I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedgerows in the leafy lanes and bypaths of literature,--in the genial Summertime.
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In the elder days of art Builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part, For the Gods are everywhere
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Some poems are like the Centaurs--a mingling of man and beast, and begotten of Ixion on a cloud.
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No man is so poor as to have nothing worth giving.
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Love is a bodily shape and Christian works are no more than animate faith and love, as flowers are the animate springtide.
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Feeling is deep and still and the word that floats on the surface Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden.
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A solid man of Boston A comfortable man with dividends, And the first salmon and the first green peas.
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I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men!
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Sang in tones of deep emotion Songs of love and songs of longing.
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The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.
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