Talk not of wasted affection – affection never was wasted.
Category Archive: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.
Evil is only good perverted.
The dawn is not distant, nor is the night starless; love is eternal.
The strength of criticism lies in the weakness of the thing criticized.
Men of genius are often dull and inert in society; as the blazing meteor, when it descends to earth, is only a stone.
Thy fate is the common fate of all; Into each life some rain must fall.
A thought often makes us hotter than a fire.
There is nothing holier in this life of ours than the first consciousness of love, the first fluttering of its silken wings.
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.