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For still in mutual sufferance lies The secret of true living Love scarce is love that never knows The sweetness of forgiving.
John Greenleaf Whittier
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John Greenleaf Whittier
Age: 84 †
Born: 1807
Born: December 17
Died: 1892
Died: September 7
Journalist
Lawyer
Poet
Writer
Haverhill
Massachusetts
Lying
Sufferance
Living
Scarce
True
Sweetness
Stills
Mutual
Still
Forgiveness
Never
Forgiving
Love
Lies
Secret
More quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier
Rest if you must, but never quit.
John Greenleaf Whittier
What is good looking, as Horace Smith remarks, but looking good? Be good, be womanly, be gentle,-generous in your sympathies, heedful of the well-being of all around you and, my word for it, you will not lack kind words of admiration.
John Greenleaf Whittier
From purest wells of English undefiled None deeper drank than he, the New World's Child, Who in the language of their farm field spoke The wit and wisdom of New England folk.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Leaning on Him, make with reverent meekness His own thy will.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Thine to work as well as pray, Clearing thorny wrongs away Plucking up the weeds of sin, Letting heaven's warm sunshine in.
John Greenleaf Whittier
If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Drop Thy still dews of quietness, Till all our strivings cease Take from our souls the strain and stress, And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of Thy peace.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn
John Greenleaf Whittier
Freedom's soil hath only place For a free and fearless race!
John Greenleaf Whittier
The still, sad music of humanity.
John Greenleaf Whittier
O Time and change! - with hair as gray as was my sire's that winter day, how strange it seems, with so much gone of life and love, to still live on!
John Greenleaf Whittier
Rap, rap! upon the well-worn stone, How falls the polished hammer! Rap, rap! the measured sound has grown A quick and merry clamor. Now shape the sole! now deftly curl The glassy vamp around it, And bless the while the bright-eyed girl Whose gentle fingers bound it!
John Greenleaf Whittier
The green earth sends her incense up. From many a mountain shrine From folded leaf and dewey cup She pours her sacred wine.
John Greenleaf Whittier
For still the new transcends the old In signs and tokens manifold Slaves rise up men the olive waves, With roots deep set in battle graves!
John Greenleaf Whittier
He is wisest, who only gives, True to himself, the best he can: Who drifting on the winds of praise, The inward monitor obeys. And with the boldness that confuses fear Takes in the crowded sail, and lets his conscience steer.
John Greenleaf Whittier
They tell me, Lucy, thou art dead, that all of thee we loved and cherished has with thy summer roses perished and left, as its young beauty fled, an ashen memory in its stead.
John Greenleaf Whittier
Truth is one And, in all lands beneath the sun, Whoso hath eyes to see may see The tokens of its unity.
John Greenleaf Whittier
We shape ourselves the joy or fear Of which the coming life is made, And fill our Future's atmosphere With sunshine or with shade.
John Greenleaf Whittier
The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.
John Greenleaf Whittier
God blesses still the generous thought,And still the fitting word He speeds,And Truth, at His requiring taught,He quickens into deeds.
John Greenleaf Whittier