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Thou canst not force my soul to wish thee ill, That is the only evil that can kill.
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All roads that lead to God are good.
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Life is too short for any vain regretting... Between the swift sun's rising and its setting, we have no time for useless tears or fretting, life is too short.... Time is the best avenger if we wait, the years speed by, and on their wings bear healing, life is too short for aught but high endeavor-too short for spite, but long enough for love. And love lives on forever and forever.
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Our lives are songs; God write the words And we set them to music at pleasure; And the song grows glad, or sweet or sad, As we choose to fashion the measure.
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Unwearied, and with springing steps elate, I had conveyed my wealth along the road. The empty sack proved now a heavier load: I was borne down beneath its worthless weight. I stumbled on, and knocked at Death's dark gate. There was no answer. Stung by sorrow's goad I forced my way into that grim abode, And laughed, and flung Life's empty sack to Fate.
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Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear As valued friends. He cannot know The zest of life who runneth here His earthly race without a foe.
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There is no sudden entrance into Heaven. Slow is the ascent by the path of Love.
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No fate could rob us of our own-- No circumstance can make it less; What time removes was but a loan, For what was ours we still possess.
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Feast, and your halls are crowded Fast, and the world goes by Succeed and give, and it helps you live But no man can help you die
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Distrust that man who tells you to distrust.
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Love is the only duty that we know.
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... love moves the world along.
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Look in; and learn the wrong, and right, From your own soul's unwritten laws. And when you question, or demur, Let Love be your Interpreter.
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A day which passed without a poem from my pen I considered lost and misused.
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Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.
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When we tire of well-worn ways, we seek for new. This restless craving in the souls of men spurs them to climb, and to seek the mountain view.
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The two kinds of people on earth are the people who lift and the people who lean.
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With every deed you are sowing a seed, though the harvest you may not see.
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Through strife the slumbering soul awakes, We learn on error's troubled route The truths we could not prize without The sorrow of our sad mistakes.
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I like the roar of cities. In the mart, Where busy toilers strive for place and gain, I seem to read humanity's great heart, And share its hopes, its pleasures, and its pain.
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Let me not hurt, by any selfish deed Or thoughtless word, the heart of foe or friend; Nor would I pass, unseeing, worthy need, Or sin by silence when I should defend... "The world is better that I lived to-day."
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I'm sorry for the anguished hearts that break with passion's strain, But I'm sorrier for the poor starved souls that never knew love's pain, Who hunger on through barren years not tasting joys they crave, For sadder far is such a lot than weeping o'er a grave.
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I hold it true that thoughts are things Endowed with bodies, breath, and wings, And that we send them forth to fill The world with good results--or ill.
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There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can circumvent or hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul.