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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.
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
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
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More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It is curious to note the old sea-margins of human thought! Each subsiding century reveals some new mystery we build where monsters used to hide themselves.
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Sang in tones of deep emotion Songs of love and songs of longing.
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When you ask one friend to dine, Give him your best wine! When you ask two, The second best will do!
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Youth comes but once in a lifetime.
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But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.
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It is the heart and not the brain, That to the highest doth attain.
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Oh, how short are the days! How soon the night overtakes us!
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There's nothing fair nor beautiful, but takes Something from thee, that makes it beautiful.
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Life is the gift of God, and is divine.
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Even the blackest of them all, the crow, Renders good service as your man-at-arms, Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail. And crying havoc on the slug and snail.
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Even cities have their graves!
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Behind the clouds is the sun still shining.
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Nothing that is can pause or stay / The moon will wax, the moon will wane, / The mist and cloud will turn to rain, / The rain to mist and cloud again, / Tomorrow be today.
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Time has a doomsday book, upon whose pages he is continually recording illustrious names. But as often as a new name is written there, an old one disappears. Only a few stand in illuminated characters never to be effaced.
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Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.
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A boy's will is the wind's will.
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Two ways the rivers Leap down to different seas, and as they roll Grow deep and still, and their majestic presence Becomes a benefaction to the towns They visit, wandering silently among them, Like patriarchs old among their shining tents.
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Man is always more than he can know of himself consequently, his accomplishments, time and again, will come as a surprise to him.
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The rapture of pursuing is the prize the vanquished gain.
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Saint Augustine! well hast thou said, That of our vices we can frame A ladder, if we will but tread Beneath our feet each deed of shame.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow