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Youth comes but once in a lifetime.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Age: 75 †
Born: 1807
Born: January 1
Died: 1882
Died: March 24
Novelist
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Portland
Maine
Henry W. Longfellow
H. W. Longfellow
00018405207 IPI
Longfellow
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More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
One, if by land, and two, if by sea And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm For the country folk to be up and to arm.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I have a passion for ballad. . . . They are the gypsy children of song, born under green hedgerows in the leafy lanes and bypaths of literature,--in the genial Summertime.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Learn to labour and to wait.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Ah, how good it feels! The hand of an old friend.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Our blossoms of passion, gay and luxuriant flowers, are bright and full of fragrance, but they beguile us and lead us astray, and their odor is deadly.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Balder the Beautiful Is dead, is dead!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
These stars of earth, these golden flowers.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Youth comes but once a life time. Perhaps, but it remains strong in many for their entire lives.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Today is the blocks with which we build.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
How in the turmoil of life can love stand, Where there is not one heart, and one mouth and one hand.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O holy trust! O endless sense of rest! Like the beloved John To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast, And thus to journey on!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Time has a doomsday book, upon whose pages he is continually recording illustrious names. But as often as a new name is written there, an old one disappears. Only a few stand in illuminated characters never to be effaced.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Softly the evening came /with the sunset/.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The greatest grace of a gift, perhaps, is that it anticipates and admits of no return.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
