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The star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed.
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
Self
Breast
Breasts
Possessed
Calm
Star
Unconquered
Stars
Resolute
Stills
Serene
Still
Rises
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In the long run men hit only what they aim at.
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I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls, The burial-ground God's-Acre.
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O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river Linger to kiss thy feet! O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever The world more fair and sweet.
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Method is more important than strength, when you wish to control your enemies.
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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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The day is dark and cold and dreary it rains, and the wind is never weary.
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When we walk towards the sun of Truth, all shadows are cast behind us.
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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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More and more do I feel, as I advance in life, how little we really know of each other. Friendship seems to me like the touch of musical-glasses--it is only contact but the glasses themselves, and their contents, remain quite distinct and unmingled.
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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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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.
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Talk not of wasted affection - affection never was wasted.
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Nor deem the irrevocable Past As wholly wasted, wholly vain, If, rising on its wrecks, at last To something nobler we attain.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
God is not dead nor doth He sleep ... The wrong shall fail, The right prevail, With peace on earth, good will to men.
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