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For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
Poet
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
Art
Heart
Work
Every
Giveth
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Grace
Literature
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Be thy sleep Silent as night is, and as deep.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Don Quixote thought he could have made beautiful bird-cages and toothpicks if his brain had not been so full of ideas of chivalry. Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Art is the gift of God, and must be used unto His glory.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days That are no more, and shall no more return. Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed I stay a little longer, as one stays To cover up the embers that still burn.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
It was Autumn, and incessant Piped the quails from shocks and sheaves, And, like living coals, the apples Burned among the withering leaves.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Authors have a greater right than any copyright, though it is generally unacknowledged or disregarded. They have a right to the reader's civility. There are favorable hours for reading a book, as for writing it, and to these the author has a claim. Yet many people think that when they buy a book they buy with it the right to abuse the author.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Do not delay, Do not delay: the golden moments fly!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I stay a little longer, as one stays, to cover up the embers that still burn.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
People demand freedom only when they have no power.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Nothing useless is, or low Each thing in its place is best And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Look not mournfully into the past, it comes not back again. Wisely improve the present, it is thine. Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh, it is not always May!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The sunshine fails, the shadows grow more dreary, And I am near to fall, infirm and weary.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
We are all architects of faith, ever living in these walls of time.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of the home-wind, Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin, To the Islands of the Blessed, To the Kingdom of Ponemah, To the Land of the Hereafter!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
How beautiful the silent hour, when morning and evening thus sit together, hand in hand, beneath the starless sky of midnight!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
What seems to us but dim funeral tapers may be heaven's distant lamps.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river Linger to kiss thy feet! O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever The world more fair and sweet.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
