“There is no death! What seems so is transition; this life of mortal breath is but a suburb of the life elysian, whose portal we call Death.” -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Grave Itself…
“The grave itself is but a covered bridge,
Leading from light to light, through a brief darkness!” -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
From Dust…
“From dust thou art to dust returneth, was not spoken of the soul.”
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There Is No Grief…
“There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.” -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Gone Are The Living…
“Gone are the living, but the dead remain, and not forgotten; for a hand unseen, still scatters rain, keeping their graves and remembrance green.” –Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tell Me Not…
“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.
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
The Love of Learning
“The love of learning, the sequestered nooks,
And all the sweet serenity of books”
―Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In Character
“In character, in manner, in style, in all the things, the supreme excellence is simplicity” ―Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Silently
“Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.”
―Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Written by LISA MARINO-Molchanova 