Henry Wadsworth Longfellow quotes: wise famous quotes, sayings and quotations by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Famous Quotes & Sayings

Discover top inspirational quotes from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow on Wise Famous Quotes.

Taste the joy
That springs from labor.

To be left alone, and face to face with my own crime, had been just retribution.

The sea hath its pearls
The heaven hath its stars
But my heart, my heart
Has its love.

Know how sublime a thing it is to suffer and be strong.

Learn to labour and to wait.

He that respects himself is safe from others. He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce.

Oh, how short are the days! How soon the night overtakes us!

The strength of criticism lies in the weakness of the thing criticized.

All was silent as before - All silent save the dripping rain.

In the long run men hit only what they aim at.

Time has laid his hand
Upon my heart, gently, not smiting it,
But as a harper lays his open palm
Upon his harp, to deaden its vibrations.

Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.

The spring came suddenly, bursting upon the world as a child bursts into a room, with a laugh and a shout and hands full of flowers.

Difficulty on the way to victory is opportunity for God to work

However things may seem, no evil thing is success and no good thing is failure.

Does not all the blood within me
Leap to meet thee, leap to meet thee,
As the springs to meet the sunshine.

I am weary of your quarrels,
Weary of your wars and bloodshed,
Weary of your prayers for vengeance,
Of your wranglings and dissensions

Sang in tones of deep emotion Songs of love and songs of longing.

The life of a man consists not in seeing visions and in dreaming dreams, but in active charity and in willing service.

The human voice is the organ of the soul.

Each morning sees some task begin, each evening sees it close.

Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each tomorrow
Find us farther than today.

Joy, temperance, and repose, slam the door on the doctor's nose.

Southward with fleet of ice Sailed the corsair Death; Wild and fast blew the blast, And the east-wind was his breath.

Labor with what zeal we will, Something still remains undone, Something uncompleted still Waits the rising of the sun.

Life hath quicksands, Life hath snares!

And the wind plays on those great sonorous harps, the shrouds and masts of ships.

Fair was she and young, when in hope began the long journey; Faded was she and old, when in disappointment it ended.

Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.

Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.

The bravest are the tenderest.

The true poet is a friendly man. He takes to his arms even cold and inanimate things, and rejoices in his heart.

All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme.

When we walk towards the sun of Truth, all shadows are cast behind us.

Look upon the errors of others in sorrow, not in anger.

No endeavour is in vain;
Its reward is in the doing.

Our pleasures and our discontents, Are rounds by which we may ascend.

A man must be of a very quiet and happy nature, who can long endure the country; and, moreover, very well contented with his own insignificant person.

The twilight that surrounds the border-land of old romance.

Like a French poem is life; being only perfect in structure when with the masculine rhymes mingled the feminine are.

Dead he is not, but departed, for the artist never dies.

Love is sunshine, hate is shadow,
Life is checkered shade and sunshine.

Some must follow and some command, through all are made oclay.

It was Autumn, and incessant Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, And, like living coals, the apples Burned among the withering leaves.

For bells are the voice of the church; They have tones that touch and search The hearts of young and old.

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors; Amid these earthly damps What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps.

What shall I say to you? What can I say Better than silence is?

The soul never grows old.

And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence.

Ah, yes, the sea is still and deep, All things within its bosom sleep! A single step, and all is o'er, A plunge, a bubble, and no more.

It is the heart and not the brain, That to the highest doth attain.

Every human heart is human.

I am never indifferent, and never pretend to be, to what people say or think of my books. They are my children, and I like to have them liked.

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.

Who dares
To say that he alone has found the truth?

The Nile, forever new and old, Among the living and the dead, Its mighty, mystic stream has rolled.

In this world a man must either be anvil or hammer.

It has done me good to be somewhat parched by the heat and drenched by the rain of life.

Life is real, life is earnest, and the grave is not its goal.

God sifted a whole nation that he might send choice grain over into this wilderness.

Every man is in some sort a failure to himself. No one ever reaches the heights to which he aspires.

Sculpture is more than painting. It is greater To raise the dead to life than to create Phantoms that seem to live.

Learn To Labor and to 'WAIT

If we love one another, nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mischances may happen.

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.

It is Lucifer, The son of mystery; And since God suffers him to be, He too, is God's minister, And labors for some good By us not understood.

Whenever nature leaves a hole in a person's mind, she generally plasters it over with a thick coat of self-conceit.

Art is the child of nature in whom we trace the features of the mothers face.

There are favorable hours for reading a book, as for writing it.

Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll.

Stay, stay at home, my heart and rest;
Home-keeping hearts are happiest.

Love is a bodily shape; and Christian works are no more than animate faith and love, as flowers are the animate springtide.

Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest!

It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that it has begun.

Evil is only good perverted.

Your silent tents of green
We deck with fragrant flowers;
Yours has the suffering been,
The memory shall be ours.

Being all fashioned of the self-same dust, let us be merciful as well as just

Softly the evening came /with the sunset/.

The purpose of that apple tree is to grow a little new wood each year. That is what I plan to do.

Our faith triumphant o'er our fears.

The story, from beginning to end, I found again in a heart of a friend.

The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain.

Youth comes but once in a lifetime

Balder the beautiful/is dead, is dead!

The soul ... is audible, not visible.

You would attain to the divine perfection.

Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined; Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.

Nothing is or can be accidental with God.

It is a beautiful trait in the lover's character, that they think no evil of the object loved.

The greatest firmness is the greatest mercy.

Nature is a revelation of God; Art a revelation of man.

Ambition's cradle oftenest is its grave

Out of the shdows of night The world rolls into light.

The rapture of pursuing is the prize the vanquished gain.

O Music! language of the soul, Of love, of God to man; Bright beam from heaven thrilling, That lightens sorrow's weight.

The holiest of holidays are those kept by ourselves in silence and apart; The secret anniversaries of the heart.

Silence and solitude, the soul's best friends.

Your education begins where what is called your education is over.
Your fate is but the common lot of all.