John Greenleaf Whittier

The best of a book is not the thought which it contains, but the thought which it suggests; just as read more

The best of a book is not the thought which it contains, but the thought which it suggests; just as the charm of music dwells not in the tones but in the echoes of our hearts.

Again the blackbirds sings; the streams
Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams,
And tremble in the April read more

Again the blackbirds sings; the streams
Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams,
And tremble in the April showers
The tassels of the maple flowers.

We search the world for truth; we cull
The good, the pure, the beautiful,
From all old read more

We search the world for truth; we cull
The good, the pure, the beautiful,
From all old flower fields of the soul;
And, weary seeker of the best,
We come back laden from out quest,
To find that all the sages said
Is in the Book our mothers read.

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: "It might have been!".

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: "It might have been!".

The smile of God is victory.

The smile of God is victory.