Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Into each life some rain must fall, some days must be dark and dreary.

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There is nothing holier in this life of ours than the first consciousness of love, the first fluttering of its silken wings.

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Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;
So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another,
Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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