Share
×
Inspirational Quotes
Authors
Professions
Topics
Tags
Quote
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way But to act, that each tomorrow Find us farther than today.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Share
Change background
T
T
T
Change font
Original
TAGS & TOPICS
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
Find
Farther
Way
Destined
Time
Enjoyment
Sorrow
Tomorrow
Inspirational
Ends
Today
More quotes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Feeling is deep and still and the word that floats on the surface Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Fair words gladden so many a heart.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Art is the child of Nature yes, Her darling child, in whom we trace The features of the mother's face, Her aspect and her attitude, All her majestic loveliness Chastened and softened and subdued Into a more attractive grace, And with a human sense imbued. He is the greatest artist, then, Whether of pencil or of pen, Who follows Nature.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I am more afraid of deserving criticism than of receiving it. I stand in awe of my own opinion. The secret demerits of which we alone, perhaps, are conscious, are often more difficult to bear than those which have been publicly censured in us, and thus in some degree atoned for.
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
What is time? The shadow on the dial, the striking of the clock, the running of the sand, day and night, summer and winter, months, years, centuries-these are but arbitrary and outward signs, the measure of Time, not Time itself. Time is the Life of the Soul.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Only a look and a voice then darkness again and silence.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The holiest of all holidays are those Kept by ourselves in silence and apart The secret anniversaries of the heart, When the full river of feeling overflows- The happy days unclouded to their close The sudden joys that our of darkness start As flames from ashes swift desires that dart Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
For 'tis sweet to stammer one letter Of the Eternal's language - on earth it is called Forgiveness!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Build today, then strong and sure, With a firm and ample base And ascending and secure. Shall tomorrow find its place.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The market-place, the eager love of gain, Whose aim is vanity, and whose end is pain!
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The Laws of Nature are just, but terrible. There is no weak mercy in them. Cause and consequence are inseparable and inevitable.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Art is long, and time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Success is not something to wait for, it is something to work for.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
To be seventy years old is like climbing the Alps. You reach a snow-crowned summit, and see behind you the deep valley stretching miles and miles away, and before you other summits higher and whiter, which you may have strength to climb, or may not. Then you sit down and meditate and wonder which it will be.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The hearts of some women tremble like leaves at every breath of love which reaches them, and they are still again. Others, like the ocean, are moved only by the breath of a storm, and not so easily lulled to rest.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Will without power is like children playing at soldiers.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought!
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
