255 Quotes by John Greenleaf Whittier

Happy he whose inward ear Angel comfortings can hear, O’er the rabble’s laughter; And, while Hatred’s fagots burn, Glimpses through the smoke discern Of the good hereafter.

Our toil is sweet with thankfulness, Our burden is our boon; The curse of earth’s gray morning is The blessing of its noon.

Clothe with life the weak intent, Let me be the thing I meant...

Once more the liberal year laughs out O’er richer stores than gems or gold: Once more with harvest song and shout Is nature’s boldest triumph told.

Who never wins can rarely lose, Who never climbs as rarely falls.

O Time and change! – with hair as gray as was my sire’s that winter day, how strange it seems, with so much gone of life and love, to still live on!

Beneath the winter’s snow lie germs of summer flowers.

Nature eschews regular lines; she does not shape her lines by a common model. Not one of Eve’s numerous progeny in all respects resembles her who first culled the flowers of Eden. To the infinite variety and picturesque inequality of nature we owe the great charm of her uncloying beauty.

You don't always win your battles, but it's good to know you fought.