There is nothing holier in this life of ours that the first consciousness of love - the first fluttering of its silken wings - the first rising sound and breath of that wind which is soon to sweep through the soul, to purify or destroy.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 - 1882)
Source: Inferno. Canto v. Line 121.
Contributed by: Zaady
This is the forest primeval.
Source: Evangeline. Part i.
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.
Men of genius are often dull and inert in society; as the blazing meteor, when it descends to earth, is only a stone.
Gone are the living, but the dead remain, And not neglected; for a hand unseen, Scattering its bounty like a summer rain, Still keeps their graves and their remembrance green.
Source: (The Jewish Cemetery; Newport, Rhode Island)
The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead.
Sometimes we learn more from a man's errors than from his virtues.
And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares that infest the day Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Source: The Day is Done.
In character, in manner, in style, in all things, the supreme excellence is simplicity.
Fame comes only when deserved, and then is as inevitable as destiny, for it is destiny.
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