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Nature is forever arriving and forever departing, forever approaching, forever vanishing; but in her vanishings there seems to be ever the waving of a hand, in all her partings a promise of meetings farther along the road.
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We are all treading the vanishing road of a song in the air, the vanishing road of the spring flowers and the winter snows, the vanishing roads of the winds and the streams, the vanishing road of beloved faces.
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It is the fine excesses of life that make it worth living.
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There is something mean in human nature that prefers to think evil, that gives a willing ear and a ready welcome to calumny, a sort of jealousy of goodness and greatness and things of good report.
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A woman's beauty is one of her great missions.
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To all of us the thought of heaven is dear -Why not be sure of it and make it here?No doubt there is a heaven yonder too,But 'tis so far away - and you are near.Men talk of heaven, - there is no heaven but here;Men talk of hell, - there is no hell but here;Men of hereafters talk, and future lives,O love, there is no other life - but here.
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If Romeo and Juliet make a tragedy of it nowadays, they have only to blame their own mismanagement, for the world is with them as it has never been before, and all sensible fathers and mothers know it.
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A wholesome oblivion of one's neighbours is the beginning of wisdom.
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Time's horses gallop down the lessening hill.
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You can't fake it. Bad writing is a gift.
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A critic is a man created to praise greater men than himself, but he is never able to find them.
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Stay the course, light a star, Change the world where'er you are.
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All roads indeed lead to Rome, but theirs also is a more mystical destination, some bourne of which no traveller knows the name, some city, they all seem to hint, even more eternal.
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Organized Christianity has probably done more to retard the ideals that were its founder's than any other agency in the world.