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A feeling of sadness and longing That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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A pen becomes a clarion. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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A torn jacket is soon mended, but hard words bruise the heart of a child. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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All your strength is in your union, All your danger is in discord. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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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. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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Art is long and time is fleeting. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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Between the dark and the daylight, When the night is beginning to lower, Comes a pause in the day’s occupations, That is known as the Children’s Hour. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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Each morning sees some task begun, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night’s repose. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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Every heart has its secret which the world knows not. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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He that respects himself is safe from others. He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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How beautiful is youth! how bright it With its illusions, aspirations, dreams … | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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I hear the wind among the trees Playing celestial symphonies; I see the branches downward bent, Like keys of some great instrument. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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In character, in manners, in style, in all things the supreme excellence is simplicity. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary. | Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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