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For ever so our thoughtful hearts repeat
On fields of triumph dirges of defeat;
And still we turn on gala-days to tread
Among the rustling memories of the dead.

— Henry van Dyke The Fall of the Leaves (1874)

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More quotes by Henry van Dyke

What we do belongs to what we are; and what we are is what becomes of us.

Raise the stone, and thou shalt find me; cleave the wood and there am I.

Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul.

Christ never asks us to give up merely for the sake of giving up, but always in order to win something better.

Joy and Power (1903)

Two honest and good-natured anglers have never met each other by the way without crying out, "What luck?"

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Henry van Dyke (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.