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Thus, seamed with many scars Bursting these prison bars, Up to its native stars My soul ascended! There from the flowing bowl Deep drinks the warrior's soul, Skoal! to the Northland! skoal! Thus the tale ended.
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
Soul
Native
Scars
Many
Bars
Bowl
Tales
Flowing
Prison
Bowls
Thus
Tale
Drink
Scar
Ascended
Deep
Ended
Bursting
Stars
Warrior
Drinks
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Into each life some rain must fall.
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The spring came suddenly, bursting upon the world as a child bursts into a room, with a laugh and a shout and hands full of flowers.
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'Twas Easter-Sunday. The full-blossomed trees Filled all the air with fragrance and with joy.
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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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The greatest grace of a gift, perhaps, is that it anticipates and admits of no return.
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One half the world must sweat and groan that the other half may dream.
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So disasters come not singly But as if they watched and waited, Scanning one another's motions, When the first descends, the others Follow, follow, gathering flock-wiseRound their victim, sick and wounded, First a shadow, then a sorrow, Till the air is dark with anguish.
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The great tragedy of the average man is that he goes to his grave with his music still in him.
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But ah! what once has been shall be no more! The groaning earth in travail and in pain Brings forth its races, but does not restore, And the dead nations never rise again.
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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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The country is not priest-ridded, but press-ridden.
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I love an author the more for having been himself a lover of books.
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Art is the gift of God, and must be used unto His glory.
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The soul never grows old.
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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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Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
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A coquette is a young lady of more beauty than sense, more accomplishments than learning, more charms not person than graces of mind, more admirers than friends, mole fools than wise men for attendants.
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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!
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They who live in history only seemed to walk the earth again.
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Life is the gift of God, and is divine.
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