Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives, When martyred flowers breathe out — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Give what you have. To some one, it may be better than you dare to think. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
As turning the logs will make a dull fire burn, so change of studies a dull brain. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Winter giveth the fields, and the trees so old, their beards of icicles and snow. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It has done me good to be somewhat parched by the heat and drenched by the rain of life. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Races, better than we, have leaned on her wavering promise, Having naught else but Hope. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Three silences there are: the first of speech, the second of desire, the third of thought. — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow