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Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
Poet
Professor
Translator
Writer
Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Watches
Reverie
Watch
Daydreaming
Color
Subconscious
Break
Waves
Upon
Idle
Mind
Wave
Changing
Sea
Seashore
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The great tragedy of the average man is that he goes to his grave with his music still in him.
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Into each life some rain must fall.
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Ah, the souls of those that die Are but sunbeams lifted higher.
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The lamps are lit, the fires burn bright. The house is full of life and light.
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Oh, how short are the days! How soon the night overtakes us!
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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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For bells are the voice of the church They have tones that touch and search The hearts of young and old.
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Life like an empty dream flits by.
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Big words do not smite like war-clubs, Boastful breath is not a bow-string, Taunts are not so sharp as arrows, Deeds are better things than words are, Actions mightier than boastings.
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Love contending with friendship, and self with each generous impulse. To and fro in his breast his thoughts were heaving and dashing, As in a foundering ship.
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Many critics are like woodpeckers, who, instead of enjoying the fruit and shadow of a tree, hop incessantly around the trunk, pecking holes in the bark to discover some little worm or other.
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The morrow was a bright September morn The earth was beautiful as if newborn There was nameless splendor everywhere, That wild exhilaration in the air, Which makes the passers in the city street Congratulate each other as they meet.
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Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.
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O Music! language of the soul, Of love, of God to man Bright beam from heaven thrilling, That lightens sorrow's weight.
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Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts.
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The life of a man consists not in seeing visions and in dreaming dreams, but in active charity and in willing service.
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How in the turmoil of life can love stand, Where there is not one heart, and one mouth and one hand.
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In ourselves are triumph and defeat.
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The Helicon of too many poets is not a hill crowned with sunshine and visited by the Muses and the Graces, but an old, mouldering house, full of gloom and haunted by ghosts.
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In the mouths of many men soft words are like roses that soldiers put into the muzzles of their muskets on holidays.
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