Maxioms by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
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Nor deem the irrevocable Past,
As wholly wasted, wholly vain,
If, rising on its wrecks, at last
To something nobler we attain.
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the read more
The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.
All things come round to him who will but wait.
All things come round to him who will but wait.
Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted.
Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted.
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labour and to wait.
