Not in the clamor of the crowded street, Not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, But in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 - 1882)
Source: The Poets
Contributed by: Zaady
For Time will teach thee soon the truth, There are no birds in last year's nest!
Source: It is Not Always May.
Alas! it is not till time, with reckless hand, has torn out half the leaves from the Book of Human Life to light the fires of passion with from day to day, that man begins to see that the leaves which remain are few in number.
Source: Hyperion. Book iv. Chap. viii.
She floats upon the river of his thoughts.
Source: The Spanish Student. Act ii. Sc. 3.
A feeling of sadness and longing That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Source: The Day is Done.
The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart.
The surest pledge of a deathless name Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.
Source: The Herons of Elmwood.
He has singed the beard of the king of Spain.
Source: The Dutch Picture.
Sleep . . . Oh! how I loathe those little slices of death . . . .
There is no greater sorrow Than to be mindful of the happy time In misery.
Source: Inferno. Canto v. Line 121.
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