Noble souls, through dust and heat, rise from disaster and defeat the stronger.
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.
The greatest grace of a gift, perhaps, is that it anticipates and admits of no return.
That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.
Taste the joy That springs from labor.
Sang in tones of deep emotion Songs of love and songs of longing.
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.
Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest.
Talk not of wasted affection - affection never was wasted.
The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark
It has done me good to be somewhat parched by the heat and drenched by the rain of life.
Tis always morning somewhere.
My Book and Heart Shall never part.
The dawn is not distant, nor is the night starless; love is eternal.
How beautiful is youth! how bright it gleams with its illusions, aspirations, dreams! Book of Beginnings, Story without End, Each maid a heroine, and each man a friend!
My soul is full of longing for the secret of the sea
The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do well, and doing well whatever you do without thought of fame. If it comes at all it will come because it is deserved, not because it is sought after.
This is the place. Stand still, my steed,- Let me review the scene, And summon from the shadowy past The forms that once have been.
I feel a kind of reverence for the first books of young authors. There is so much aspiration in them, so much audacious hope and trembling fear, so much of the heart's history, that all errors and shortcomings are for a while lost sight of in the amiable self assertion of youth.
If the mind, that rules the body, ever so far forgets itself as to trample on its slave, the slave is never generous enough to forgive the injury, but will rise and smite the oppressor.
The atmosphere breathes rest and comfort, and the many chambers seem full of welcomes.
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.
I see, but cannot reach, the height That lies forever in the light.
Trouble is the next best thing to enjoyment; there is no fate in the world so horrible as to have no share in either its joys or sorrows.
The mind of the scholar, if you would have it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds. It is better that his armor should be somewhat bruised by rude encounters even, than hang forever rusting on the wall.
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